When I was little, I had a white teddy bear. It wasn’t particularly special, but I liked to bring it with me everywhere around the house. Over time, the fur turned brown and it probably smelled, uh, ‘special’, but oddly, I just became more attached to it.
Now that I’m a parent, though, while I find it sweet that my daughter is very affectionate towards her motley collection of stuffed creatures, it’s hard not to wince when she grabs them with less-than-clean hands and plants kisses on them with food-smeared lips; or, worse, when she’s in a toy shop and attempts to hug and/or kiss various stuffed animals, all of which have probably been manhandled by countless other kids and have remnants of their DNA to show for it. But that’s the difference between kids and grown-ups: kids don’t think about practical things like dust, germs and stains — they just go with their heart.