This guy is my old teddy bear. There is something about him, but I’m not really sure of all the details any more. Either my maternal grandfather bought him for me, or it was in his family… either way, my mom claims that he’s worth a bit and falls into the heirloom category.
He has no labels to speak of, but his head, arms and legs all move. He also squeaks when his tummy is punched. I don’t recall ever giving him a name, or bringing him for naps – he was always just my Teddy Bear. More of a stoic observer, a comforting presence rather than a cuddler. A confidant instead of a drinking buddy.
The Magpie loves him. She always wants to have him brought down so that she can see him, but she just wants to see him. She won’t drag him around or be rough or try and shove playdough in his face [yet…]. As though she, too, suspects that he’s a sweet old soul.