It all started on my first birthday. My Uncle Allan gave me a large teddy bear, about 18 inches high. I still have him. He’s a little threadbare (or ‘threadbear’, I guess) and his nose is stitched together where, for reasons lost in the middle of time, I tried to melt Thunderbird 4 onto it.
A few years later, my biggest little sister decided that she wanted a big teddy, too, and so, one Christmas, Fluffy arrived. He was about four times the size of Big Ted and she loved him very much.
So much, that littlest little sister decided that she had to have a giant bear, too. And she did – an enormous pink (I think) thing, at least twice the size of Fluffy.
And it came with a friend, brown and the same size. Within years, there was sixteen times more bear in our house, but only three more bears. It is a good job we all grew up before the house was overrun. Thank heavens that my brother never joined in the trend, or we would have had to have the roof raised.
Big Ted now lives in my wardrobe, away from the fur-damaging sunlight. Fluffy, I hope, is enjoying the California sunshine with Big Little Sis. I have no idea what happened to the other two, but I hope that if Little Little Sis doesn’t have them, that they found someone else to love them as much as she did