Monday, February 12, 2007
Gladly the Cross-eyed Bear
It looks like Mae has picked a lovey. It's a scraggly-looking bear named Gladly. Of all the stuffed toys and soft blankets she's got, I love that she picked that particular bear. It was a special gift from my dad, chosen in memory of my grandma, a fiesty woman with an easy laugh, who loved us hugely. She died suddenly, almost 9 years ago, but the hole she left in our family still feels gapingly huge to me.
About a week ago, my husband brought Gladly into the big bed for Mae to play with and she went nuts. She did her babyjoy thing, where she screams and laughs while smiling, waving her arms spastically and doing a bicycle with her feet. It's pretty much the greatest expression of happiness. It got me thinking, actually, how sad it is that it's not socially acceptable to be that spastically happy as an adult. Or, at least, it's very rarely acceptable. The only context I can think of it being alright in is, say, if you won a squillion dollars in the lottery, or if Oprah gave you a new car.
But for now, for Mae, just that bear is more than enough to make her silly with joy. So is a kiss, a bath, or a kitty.
But more about that bear... its name comes from my grandma's favourite church hymn when she was a kid: "Gladly the Cross I'd Bear." And while it was actually about getting nailed to a cross alive, being a little girl, she interpreted it in a much more cheerful way, as a song about a cross-eyed bear named Gladly.
And Mae's scraggly bear is definitely cross-eyed. He's brand new, but is made to look old, with a plaid patch on one leg, and soft, matty looking fur. She burries her face in his belly when she's fighting sleep, then sometimes throws one arm across him while she's actually sleeping, then does her babyjoy thing when she wakes up again and finds him still there.
About a week ago, my husband brought Gladly into the big bed for Mae to play with and she went nuts. She did her babyjoy thing, where she screams and laughs while smiling, waving her arms spastically and doing a bicycle with her feet. It's pretty much the greatest expression of happiness. It got me thinking, actually, how sad it is that it's not socially acceptable to be that spastically happy as an adult. Or, at least, it's very rarely acceptable. The only context I can think of it being alright in is, say, if you won a squillion dollars in the lottery, or if Oprah gave you a new car.
But for now, for Mae, just that bear is more than enough to make her silly with joy. So is a kiss, a bath, or a kitty.
But more about that bear... its name comes from my grandma's favourite church hymn when she was a kid: "Gladly the Cross I'd Bear." And while it was actually about getting nailed to a cross alive, being a little girl, she interpreted it in a much more cheerful way, as a song about a cross-eyed bear named Gladly.
And Mae's scraggly bear is definitely cross-eyed. He's brand new, but is made to look old, with a plaid patch on one leg, and soft, matty looking fur. She burries her face in his belly when she's fighting sleep, then sometimes throws one arm across him while she's actually sleeping, then does her babyjoy thing when she wakes up again and finds him still there.
