At 3.5, Eli owns every toy train from the Disney Junior show Chuggington, the entire collection of the Shalom Sesame series on DVD and about 200 MagnaTiles.
But he has never owned a teddy bear.
Last week, we borrowed Ira Sleeps Over from the library. I was very eager to share it with Eli. (He took one look at it and commented, "At the JCCA they have that book!" So jaded.)
If you're not familiar with it, Ira Sleeps Over is a classic children's book about a kid who's excited to sleep over at his best friend's house until his sister asks if he's planning to take his teddy bear. Much consternation ensues: Should he bring the teddy bear? Should he leave the teddy bear home? What if Reggie laughs at him?
After we read it I began to tell Eli about my childhood teddy bear, Mr. Bear. Mr. Bear is a medium-sized brown bear with a dapper red bowtie who now lives on my dresser.
That night Eli asked if he could sleep with Mr. Bear. "I love Mr. Bear," he said longingly. "Mr. Bear is my best friend."
Now, Mr. Bear is my longest-running relationship: 30+ years and counting. I had visions of Mr. Bear being torn limb from limb while roughhousing with Eli, or of his debonair bowtie being ripped from his fur.
"Haven't you ever seen Toy Story 3?" Phil said. "Mr. Bear has been waiting for years for someone to play with him again."
This morning I came into Eli's room and Mr. Bear was sitting on Eli's chair on top of a book. "Look!" Eli said. "Mr. Bear is reading that book! That's so cute."
He picked up Mr. Bear and lovingly laid him on the bed. "Time for you to go to bed, Mr. Bear. I'll tuck you in now." He gently covered Mr. Bear with his beloved soft blankie. Then he gave Mr. Bear a kiss on the head.
"Shhh, turn off the lights," he said in a stage whisper. "Mr. Bear is sleeping."
I didn't mind that it was 5:40 a.m. and I wished I was still sleeping myself. I was just happy Mr. Bear had a child to love him again.
* * *
Shortly after we put Mr. Bear to sleep I took Eli for a run in his jogging stroller, something we've done together a few times a week since he was 5 months old.
It was still dark when we set out, and the moon was a half-circle above us in the chilly air. "Look, the moon is following us," I said to Eli.
"The moon is racing us," he said exuberantly as he munched on his bagel (a running tradition). "Mom, start your engine!"
I made a vrooming sound as I puffed along.
"Moon, start your engine!" Eli called up to the sky. He hunched forward. "Ready...steady...GO! Mom, you need to go really fast!"
I flew down Metropolitan Avenue, where Eli always complains that the cars are going faster than we are because I run too slowly.
Somewhere along Yellowstone, we lost the moon behind the buildings. Daylight emerged. We saw some cherry blossom trees, to Eli's delight.
"It's spring!" he said happily. When we turned onto Austin Street, we saw the moon in the sky again, paler now in the daylight. And we followed the moon all the way home, where Phil and Ellie were just coming out for a walk.
"Dad, did you wake up Mr. Bear?" Eli asked. Phil assured us that he had not.
Sure enough, when we got back upstairs, Mr. Bear was still fast asleep under Eli's blankie. I hope he was dreaming the contented dreams of a bear who has a little boy to love him.