Your bunny is a far more superior toy or stuffed whatnot in your growing collection of useless things. We've learned that Bunny-Bunny, as the big girls refer to it, is your most treasured object and there is no sense in ever trying to put you to bed without it. Which also makes it a bitch when you're tired, and Bunny is in the washer or dryer, in which case, timing is everything.
Each night for bed, and at every nap, we place you in your crib with Bunny on your chest. You immediately wrap your arms around its neck while your mouth searches for its bows. You suck one of the bows like other babies suck pacifiers. With one bow firmly secured in your mouth, you then take one hand from Bunny's neck and search out the other bow. Your mouth sucks one bow, your fingers caress and play with the other.
Each waking, it is your first go-to thing you grab. Sometimes to toss it out of the crib only to scream about such an atrocity milliseconds later, other times to squeeze its neck as you maneuver a bow back into your mouth in between fusses.
Bunny-Bunny is, by far, a much cuter addiction to have than Kyra's pacifier or Lydia's thumb. Which seems wholly unfair to the other two girls, but that's the way it is. Even when the top of Bunny's head is a disgusting and dingy color and reeking of yuck, it never fails to bring a smile to my soul each time I check on you while you sleep and see you haven't released your death grip on that damned doll.