Please allow me to introduce to you my first brush with the concept of a lovey. I present to you “Snoopy,” or at least that’s what I called him, or better, what my parents decided to call him, because he was around long before I could talk. This hideous collection of fabric and stuffing was always at my side when I was little. Security blanket, attachment device, comfort item, whatever you want to call it, Snoopy was my rock. Family lore is that he was gifted to me on the day I was born, although I’m not sure by whom. He now spends most of his time at the bottom of my cedar chest. But I still pull him out when I need him.

He might look a little scary to you. He has a lot of history, but I can still see him as he was 37 years ago. Soft yellow and white fur, pink satin lining on the underside of his black velvety ears, pink ribbon around his neck, and big cartoon button eyes. If you look closely, you can see the faded outline of the place his embroidered nose and mouth used to be. This stuffed toy was well loved. One of my earliest memories is actually the moment I was able to finally pull one of his beautiful button eyes out of the fabric socket, only to place it directly in my mouth and nearly choke on it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Scary as that was, I never faulted Snoopy, who has remained with me through all these years. In fact, all my snoopy-related memories, good and bad, were put to good use when we were finalizing the PocketLovey design. I really wanted my kids to have something like my Snoopy to depend on, but given the traumatic button-as-eyeball incident of my youth, coupled with a neurotic fear that my children would choke on something (which I’m told is common to first-time moms), I was leary of stuffed toys. So I tended toward the blankie end of the lovey spectrum.

My twin sister’s security device of choice was a white blanket, which was literally whittled down to about three square inches by the time we were in high school. I shudder to think now of the countless floors in restaurants, grocery stores, public restrooms, parking lots, that her blankie traveled. Oh no, the blankie approach to comforting my children would never do. There’s just not enough bleach in the world to solve that problem. I’m hoping the germs that live in my imagination are much, much worse than the real ones that live in our babies’ playthings.

These were the thoughts that led me to pull out my grandmother’s sewing machine and put together my son’s first PocketLovey. PocketLoveys are made of fabric and thread only, nothing more, to eliminate any choking hazard – because the best of our brilliant babies are curious! PocketLoveys give a child the feel of a blankie, but you can tuck it all into the pocket when the situation requires so that you don’t arrive home with a petrie dish of whatever was on the floor at the mall. And just like my Snoopy, PocketLoveys have multiple colors and textures to satisfy the senses.

That’s the lovey we’ve made. And I’m hoping a few PocketLoveys will see the history Old Snoopy has…

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 11th, 2009 at 5:21 am and is filed under Personal Experience. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.