We brought his stuffed monkey (who is named Monkey because we're not a creative bunch apparently) and his blankie for comfort. We saw the doctor who sent us across the parking lot from the clinic to the hospital for blood tests. My little man was a rock star by the way, he never cried and barely even noticed the needle!
We left the hospital, monkey, blankie and lollipop in hand and I loaded my brave boy into our van and handed him his friend. As we were driving away he said "uh oh, I dropped Monkey on da foor!" So I said "It's okay, I'll get him when we get to school." and off we went to preschool.
When we got to his school I opened the van door and there was no monkey. I checked everywhere in the van. I checked under the van in case it fell out. I said "Did you drop it on the GROUND at the hospital?!" and he looked at me and said "Yes". So I jumped back in the van and raced back to the hospital.
When I got there my stomach sank when I didn't see the monkey. So I went into the clinic and asked if anyone had turned it in. The receptionist told me no but took my name and number in case it turned up.
I started to feel panicked as I ran back across the parking lot to the hospital to see if anyone had turned it in there. Nothing. I went back to the van and searched it again. I drove the same route back to his preschool hoping to spot it on the road, all the while listening to a sad two year old ask me where his monkey was.
My stomach was churning. Ridiculous right? Why was I getting so upset over a stuffed monkey?
When I bought it I had cut the tags off so I couldn't remember who made it and I've never seen one like it again. It was irreplaceable.
We got home and I told my husband what had happened. I started getting teary and worried about what bed time would be like. I jumped on Facebook and started putting messages up on all my community's pages hoping someone picked him up and took him home for safe-keeping. My husband took a more pro-active approach and left to go check the parking lot again.
I waited, feeling sad and guilty that I hadn't listened to my son when he said he dropped it.
When my husband got home he came in empty-handed and my heart sank. He came into the family room and said "Hey Jack, come here." and he pulled Monkey out from behind his back.
My sweet boy ran over and scooped up his friend and thanked his dad. I wrapped my arms around our hero and thanked him too. Apparently someone had found him and put him on another car's windshield, I had been looking down, not up.
I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by MY reaction as a similar thing happened when my oldest was a year old, but it amazes me how attached I become to their special toys.
Has your child ever lost their lovey? How did you react?
