Despite the title I have given this post, it seems I ought to mention that I have never actually read The Velveteen Rabbit. I felt like I had a vague notion of what it was about, but to be certain, I was just sitting here googling "synopsis of The Velveteen Rabbit" and then also peeking at the frequently asked questions like "What is the problem in The Velveteen Rabbit?" to make sure I was on the right path. I obviously need to get myself a copy of this book pronto, as well as perhaps a box of tissues and larger than acceptable bag of m&m's. I cannot go any further down that rabbit hole right this minute though (yeah, I went there) as finding the photos I wanted for this nearly used up all of my steam. The idea for this post has been peeking out from various corners of my mind for well over a year now, and I'm not positive that I have truly figured out yet what I wanted to say. I'm hoping we can get through it together.
First, maybe some introductions? I know they've made a brief appearance before, but I will save you the trouble of clicking a link, and deprive myself the opportunity to procrastinate by looking for the post. These are our "friends" as they appear today...
...they have very clever names: Mouse, Lambie, and The Airps. Mouse is mine, and those are his/her/their third set of eyes. The armpit hair on display there is all original. In looking for photos of mouse from the early days, I ran across another old friend. The top two photos are my monkey friend Horace and me. I refuse to go off on a creepy monkey tangent here, or to sully Horace's name by associating him with such. He was a good friend, willing to share a sandwich or get dragged in the sand for the sake of this little girl's happiness. I don't know where Horace went, and cannot think about it anymore right now.
Back to mouse with original eyes on the left and alarming baby blues on the right.
Next up are the Airps. When it became evident that our son was taking Airp under his wing (oh dear), we asked the person who did the gifting if she could grab another in case he was ever lost. At some point the second coming entered the fray in hopes of keeping the wear and tear to a minimum. It was only a matter of time before worlds collided and our son realized there were two...and of course, then had to have both. Airp had those ribbon feeling types of tags that the boy would hold onto just so, like in that bottom left photo. Look how spry the fly guys look in that five year portrait, and then trying to hold themselves together in 2016 to comfort their boy after surgery when he broke his leg. 
And then there's Lambie, who belongs to our daughter. He earned his own page, shown below, in her graduation scrapbook. I can only think of three times when he was lost outside of this house, which I suppose is sort of remarkable considering how often he left. The girl only sucked her thumb when she had Lambie in her hand, and she had to have him positioned a certain way.
That's the gang! I am sure to some, they appear a bit ragged, perhaps they even conjure thoughts of germs. I can assure you that they have been washed numerous times, with many fingers crossed tightly that they'd survive the spin cycle. They literally were worn down by the love they were given, had the stuffing squeezed out of them. (Mouse's physique was not quite as easy to squish, and I'm pretty sure they had some botox over the years.) The Airps were brought out on Christmas Eve a few times asking for patches to mend their wear. The elves did not disappoint, and eventually it was realized that while some beliefs changed, the mending would still happen.He is more patch than plush these days, and very modest as airplanes go...
Lambie was most recently presented with a couple of holes that did not have much actual fabric to stitch them back together with.
We are not sure how he keeps weathering despite his place of honor as more of a dream overseer, nearby but not handled. We got some fabric to make him some pants. Is it ridiculous at our ages? Well of course it is, and I know that, but when you go through the motions as some metaphor for life, it became something else for me. A moment to talk about something simple like fabric when I was not sure what other topics might be off limits or awkward. A chance to try to fix this one thing knowing there were countless other things about growing up that I certainly cannot touch. Assuring each other that this one thing would be okay, and sitting side by side, many others could be as well. And laughter at the finished product.
The kids do not take kindly to any teasing I may do about the current status of their "friends", which I know translates to more than thread and cotton. I asked my son if he could put into words what his deal was and he responded that they just looked so weak, so different, but it would be worse to not have them. I am struggling to find the right words for what I think this all means without putting the wrong words in anyone's mouth or going off some psychobabble deep end. I just feel like there is something there in the stitches telling its own tale, so maybe I should just leave it here for you? In the meantime I guess I will read The Velveteen Rabbit and report back.
Did you have a lovey or blankie? (Nope, I don't know what happened to my yellow ribboned wonder either.) This is my cousin on his wedding day in 2016 with his childhood bear, Buddy, who my aunt dressed for the occasion.
