So we’ve been trying to get Jasper to attach himself to a lovey. Emilia offered the use of hers, but – noting the fact that Toady is, essentially, a giant plush phallus – my husband suggested, in the interest of not setting Jasper up for future discouragement, that she perhaps keep Toady to herself. Instead, we tried bears, penguins, squeaky giraffes, musical clowns, vibrating sheep, and a beaver.

He liked the beaver.

We realized our mistake too late.

Toady.

Beaver.

Sure, Toady is – in form if not in name – pretty literal, whereas Beaver is – in form and name – entirely figurative, but still. The genital general problem, I think, stands: my daughter’s comfort object is an eight-inch long plush phallic whatever, and my son’s is a big furry beaver.

Remind me to think these things through more thoroughly next time, okay?

(The beaver, I’ll have you know, has not proven enough of a distraction to allow my head any respite from its nightly violations.)

(There are just so many things wrong with the preceding sentence.)

(Shoot me now.)