Little Isaac

A couple of years ago, I went to a garage sale. It is not noteworthy that I went to a garage sale because I go to a lot of garage sales...like, I mean my car literally turns on it's own when I spot a cardboard sign with an arrow drawn on it with a sharpie marker...so it's a wonder I would remember this one garage sale so clearly except that I only had Evan with me for some reason, and I let him buy something with some change I found in my purse. He was so sweet and excited and picked out a little stuffed animal that he named "Little Isaac". Something special about Evan is that he loves stuffed animals more than any kid I have known (including myself, which says a lot about how much he loves stuffed animals). They become alive to him and he cares for them and shares his life with them and misses them when they are apart. It's literally like having "The Velveteen Rabbit" acted out in front of me over the last few years...and I'm a sucker for that kind of stuff. It can make me cry just thinking about it.

Here's Evan being reunited with some of his animals after a trip a year ago or so

I remember when Evan came home and showed Sam his new friend, Little Isaac, and Sam pointed out (in a "brotherly love" kind of way) that Little Isaac had a pink bow and therefore could not be an Isaac. Evan's face was so concerned as he considered this information and pondered the approval of his big brother, but he stuck to his guns and declared that the animal was still named Little Isaac and that it was okay that he had a pink bow and he loved him anyway. See, doesn't it just break your heart a little?

Here's the only picture I could find of Little Isaac and Evan would probably be mad that she had him so don't tell him, okay?

Well, somehow in our move to CA, Little Isaac got lost...we think he got put in a box that I thought was going to sit in the front of our storage unit so I could come back to it later when we were more settled but Jeremy thought that it would make a good support pillar for all the furniture in the very dark back corner of our storage unit with our entire possessions stacked on it. No marital stress there upon that discovery (not). Evan was so heartbroken when we told him that Little Isaac was not to be found any time soon...he just felt so guilty that he had allowed his special friend to be put somewhere so dark and lonely. Even though I am the first to encourage my children's imaginations, I even resorted to a harsh conversation with him about how Little Isaac is just a toy! and doesn't have feelings! and we can find another toy to replace him (gasp)! but to no avail...Evan just cried and cried...for days, it seems.

And now I can't seem to get poor Little Isaac out of my head. I already went once (with Jeremy, to his credit) to burrow through the storage unit to try to rescue him...we both got sweaty and sore from contortions and straining around furniture to try to reach the box we "think" he is in, with no care for standing with our full body weight on boxes marked "Fragile" that probably contain our most (monetarily) valuable possessions, I might add...just to find a precious used stuffed dog that's a boy but wears a pink bow on his ear that was bought for 25 cents.

 Maybe it's because I look at how fast Evan is growing and that he can read now and that he might start losing teeth soon and he won't be so snuggly and will outgrow his affection for his little toys. Maybe it's because I feel nostalgic about my childhood toys and am sad that time goes by so fast. And maybe it's because my life feels sort of stuck in an in-between place and I don't know when I am going to get all my special stuff out of boxes and I can't be sure that I'll still like all my treasures when I do or if I'll ever be able to see any of them again. And what if the worst-case scenario comes true...that we finally open the boxes and find Little Isaac only to have Evan shrug his shoulders and go back to playing video games without taking a second look. That would break my heart, I think.

So I keep plotting ways to get to that box or racking my brain to think of where else Little Isaac could be hidden, all the while checking to make sure that none of Evan's teeth are loose and finding comfort in each day that he wants to bring his other stuffed animals to bed with him...and reminding myself that stuff is just stuff, even if it is really special stuff.

(I was doing pretty good until my mother-in-law called the other day and she was all choked up because she found a little pair of Evan or Sam's socks behind the bed when she was cleaning and thought about how they won't ever be that little again and how they used to sing the "Careful" song with her in their scratchy little voices...then I got all Velveteen Rabbit-y again)

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And then there's Annie, who surprised me by putting her dolls to sleep in the refrigerator and I couldn't help but think it looked like they were dead bodies in the morgue and she was the mortician mixing up her potions and smiling at their dead bodies

And here's 3 more pics, just for fun.

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(Oh no, Evan just came in and saw the picture of Little Isaac. He seems to be holding strong but I, on the other hand...)

(Evan made these on his own one day...for some reason he always spells "Mom" with the letters K-A-C-and I, seriously, he reads it "Mom" but spells it "Kaci" (or Kaiac, in this picture))

Have I mentioned that Evan LOVES raccoons? And that when he was in the womb, Sam called him "Raccoony"?  It's too cute!