Sweet William’s grandmother gave him a stuffed lamb for Christmas a year ago. He named it Baba (accent on the second syllable). She later gave me a back-up lamb so I’d be covered if Baba went missing or had to take a bath in the washing machine.
The first time I swapped them, William laughed hysterically at Baba’s impostor. Baba had been to a spa! Belly laughs shook his little body until he fell over. The second time, he flung himself on the floor and screamed for his real Baba. I’ll have to drag Baba II across the floor of Penn Station (like William did to Baba I) before he mistakes him for the original.
Baba and his friends are on my mind as I tackle spring cleaning. I’m retiring the stuffed animals that can’t be machine washed. They collect too must dirt and dust (allergens, flame retardants, and general ickiness).
I’m going to declare every Wednesday “Stuffed Animal Wash Day” so I’ll remember to bathe the beasties weekly.