From time to time in this blog, I refer to our two children. But it is now time to come clean.
Meet Gerald, our third child. He is a stuffed giraffe.
|He’s slouching in this picture.
I assure you he has a long neck-to-body ratio.
There’s no need to be so giraffist.
A very cool cousin of mine (where would we be without cousins? I can feel another post coming on) gave Gerald to our son when he was a month old. She also named him. As an aside, if you are Australian and you got into the first series of Australian Princess, then you will have seen her. I guarantee she was not one of the annoying ones. Although the most annoying by far was Paul Burrell.
Once Gerald came into our lives, he became one of the family.
Where our little boy went, Gerald went too.
|It isn’t lederhosen. It’s his seat-belt.
Anyone know where you can buy these in the UK? Much safer.
|Note the Sydney winter attire. How things have changed for us.|
We once forgot Gerald on a trip to the supermarket and I can still hear my son crying over it. Another time, Gerald went missing for 24 hours. My husband called me at work to break the news “It’s your husband, there’s some kind of emergency!” Lots of urgent whispering, two very emotional parents, trying to work out where could he be. That night our boy cried himself to sleep. My husband ended up tracking down another one, so one shopping trip later and all was calm. Original Gerald did turn up at the Doctor’s, so we kept him on hand for further emergencies. They are hardly identical – Original Gerald has no eyes, as they have been sucked out of his head. Is our son the only person to carry their toy around by the eyes, with his mouth?
But times are tough for Gerald at the moment. Very tough.
This is Rock Star Dinosaur.
We bought him on a recent trip to Peppa Pig World. Gerald is being usurped by said dinosaur in the affections of a 4 year old boy. It’s Rock Star Dinosaur who our boy cuddles close at night. It’s Rock Star Dinosaur who comes on all the outings, and it’s Rock Star Dinosaur who sits up at the table and has extra helpings. When I bought this little green dinosaur, I never imagined it would trigger such a disaster. I take full responsibility and the guilt is hard to bear.
Gerald used to eat up Mummy’s porridge. He’d then be offered some leaves to eat. Now Rock Star Dinosaur gets to share our son’s strawberries from the same bowl. This is huge. This is the plot for Toy Story.
Recently, Gerald has spent the odd night in his own little bed on the floor. I wasn’t worried. I thought to myself that since our boy has made a bed especially for Gerald, then he is still in the picture.
But last night, our boy went to bed with Rock Star Dinosaur while Gerald stayed in the toy box. Once our darling was asleep, I put Gerald in his arms. I love Gerald. And I will fight to keep him in our boy’s affections. Rock Star Dinosaur might be green and spiky – great if you’re into that sort of thing – but does he have Gerald’s swishy tail with the brushy bit at the end? Does he have blotchy spots? Does he have a belly button? (Yes. Gerald has a belly button.)
“Rock Star Dinosaur is the best toy ever! He makes me so happy Mummy!”
Sadly, I think Gerald’s days are numbered. And it’s all my fault.