When Tristan was an infant, he was a horrible sleeper. He nursed every hour around the clock for the first six weeks of his life. By three months, I was finally getting three hours of rest at a time, but I didn’t get more than that until he was close to a year. (As a side note, I have the best sleeper ever now – a solid 12 hours at night and a good 3 hours every afternoon! Ahhhhh!)
But I digress. As one of the strategies we tried to help us all get a little more zzzzz’s, we purchased the sleep sheep. A cute and cuddly little lamb that played soothing sounds such as ocean waves or a rain storm. The sounds may have helped marginally but what it has done for sure is given my little man the most comforting little friend.
The sound box has long been tossed aside, but Baa Baa is faithfully at Tristan’s side. Despite regular washes, it’s limp body, which was once snowy white and soft, is now a dull grey matted pile of plush. I would never volunteer this lovey up for scientific bacteria testing. I don’t even want to know.
Lately, Tristan is not more than a few feet from Baa Baa at any given time. The ratty old thing comes everywhere, and there have been tears when mommy has drawn the line at bringing the thing into the bathtub. Although now that I think about it, that might not be such a bad idea.
During our recent trip out East, Tristan held tightly onto Baa Baa wherever we went. The park. The restaurant. The beach. The stores. Oh, the stores. This is where our story rides a fine line between life happily going on status quo, and my little man’s world becoming an utter disaster.
We stopped in Moncton to try out the famous ‘Magnetic Hill.’ Seeing as the actual hill was literally a one minute detour from our drive, we decided to stretch our legs wandering through the touristy shops and feeding the ducks. It was soon time to get back in the car for our last stretch of driving. A few more hours and we would be able to relax at our cottage in PEI. It would be smooth sailing the rest of the way. Or so we thought.
Tristan happily hopped back into the car, eager to get the DVD player going again. We headed off down the highway, dreaming of the beach that was to come.
After a while, Tristan asked for Baa Baa. He had been faithfully on his lap for the duration of this trip so I was surprised to turn around and find him conspicuously absent. I started rooting through piles of luggage in the backseat, hoping against hope that he had just slipped down and was being covered by a random jacket or DVD case.
When I didn’t find him in the first 30 seconds, my gut told me what Tristan’s little heart did not want to know…. we had left Baa Baa behind.
How far do you drive your son to reclaim the love of his life? Had he the life experience, he may even argue that Baa Baa was a piece of his soul.
Thank God we had only driven 20 minutes out of Moncton and had not arrived at our final destination before this oversight had been discovered.
What could we do? Obviously, there was no choice but to go back. We got off at the next off ramp and made the journey back to Moncton, the whole time Tristan whining, “More Baa Baa, mommy. More Baa Baa. Puh-wease!”
When we arrived back to Magnetic Hill, I quickly hopped out of the car and jogged, as fast as my pregnant little legs would carry me, back into the store where we last remembered seeing Baa Baa. Please God, let that freakin’ sheep still be there. And he was! There, resting up on top of a pile of rubber lobsters, was dingy old Baa Baa.
I headed back to the car, seeing Luc standing outside Tristan’s door trying to keep the little guy calm. A look of sheer relief washed over his face when he saw me coming with precious cargo in my hands.
Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. Tristan hugged Baa Baa tightly against him and we headed off on the road again.
And we never again took our eyes off that darn sheep!