Mr. Bear (part two)

So even though the rest of us were getting tired of hauling Mr. Bear everywhere, Jordan was most happy when Mr. Bear was in sight.

My plan was flawless.

I knew that each of my children understood the realities of laundry. Mysterious things happened when things went to the laundry room. Socks disappeared, colors changed and occasionally things got smaller.........

As Jordan sat on the couch upstairs with his blankie (to which he was never overly attached), I set to work in the basement laundry room. I loaded both the bears into the washing machine with some towels and a good dose of detergent and fabric softener. As the machine churned away I headed upstairs to work in the kitchen-getting a batch of cookies going, tidying up, checking on Jordan and his sister and ultimately being totally distracted by the sound of the magic machine at work in the laundry room.

The moment I heard the "end of cycle" bell ring, I bolted down the stairs to load my loot into the dryer. I was halfway through my plan and I was determined to see it through to completion without interruption. With everything safely stowed in the dryer, I went back upstairs to continue with the morning chores as the towels and bears tumbled dry.

I got Sara and Jordan busy with some toys in the play room. Jordan was starting to ask for his bear-wandering around the room muttering, "Mr. Bear" as he examined the mob of Fisher Price Little People at his disposal.

The dryer bell chimed not a moment too soon and I made a bee-line for the laundry room, anxiously praying the children would stay upstairs long enough for me to make the switch undetected.

I pulled everything out of the dryer! I was sick with worry that something might have gone wrong but as I untangled towels and bears, to my delight, everything was PERFECT! Both bears were fresh, clean, fluffy and ready for action. I hastily stuffed Mr. Bear in the Goodwill bag I kept behind the dryer. "Yes GIrls; I always had a Goodwill bag in the laundry room so that's probably where (insert missing item here) went." But that's another story.....

I gave the Little Mr. Bear a good shake and headed up the stairs. I was absolutely vibrating with anticipation as I entered the playroom. "Mr. Bear?!" Jordan inquired as I came in the room, Little Mr. Bear behind my back. "Oh Buddy, look what happened to Mr. Bear in the wash!! He got smaller! The machine must have shrunk him! It's like magic!"

Sara looked like she was in shock. Jordan was staring at the bear with disbelief. "That's NOT MR. BEAR," he howled. "Sure it is, Son. He just got smaller. See, it's your bear, just littler," I replied in the most reassuring mom voice I could muster. I was losing ground. Jordan's face was getting redder, his little fists were clenching and unclenching. He was shaking his head. Tears were squirting out and down his round cheeks. "It's Mr. Bear, Son. He's clean and fresh and little. Isn't he cute?" Jordan was devastated. He held the bear in his hand and cried and cried and cried. Then he cried some more.

Sara lost interest almost immediately. "That's kinda cool." And she was off playing again.

When the big girls came home for lunch, they marvelled at the mysteries of laundry and tried to comfort Jordan. They both said the new Mr. Bear was definitely an improvement since he was easier to carry and could even fit in a pocket if necessary.

But Jordan was inconsolable. He curled up on the couch with the Bear and sobbed for most of the day.

When his Dad came home that night he asked, "What's wrong with Jordan?" The sisters replied in unison that Mr. Bear had shrunk in the wash and Jordan was sad. Jordan wouldn't eat his dinner and continued to cry and sob for the rest of the evening.

Wally and I deposited a very unhappy little boy in his bed that night with the much smaller Mr. Bear nearby. I was having second thoughts; maybe this wasn't such a great idea. "You can't give him the old bear now. It will screw him up entirely," his dad told me later that night as I fretted. Wally counselled, "Parenting is about being consistent, not changing your mind, sticking to your guns...He'll wake up and have forgotten all about Mr. Bear. He'll be fine. Don't worry and DON'T GIVE HIM MR. BEAR"

Three days later...Jordan was still unhappy; miserable might better describe his state and I was a nervous wreck. He had cried non-stop, even sobbing in his sleep. He hadn't eaten properly since the first day-skipping lunch and then only picking at subsequent meals. In addition to emotional turmoil, my little slugger was probably losing weight. I was wracked with guilt and basically the whole situation was spiralling out of control. The girls were no longer entertained and were beginning to treat their brother with disdain. I had to act.

I slunk to the laundry room, rummaged through the Goodwill bag and retrieved Mr. Bear. I climbed the stairs slowly and approached the couch where my little snot encrusted man child lay. I held out the bear where he could see it.

"MR. BEAR!" he squealed. "Mr. Bear is back!!" He jumped up immediately, beaming from ear to ear, dancing a little happy dance that would rival any NFL display. Sara came running with all the commotion. "It's a miracle." she said solemnly and went back to her toys.

Jordan was overjoyed. Mr. Bear and Little Mr. Bear became fast friends. And we all lived happily ever after, somehow.

PS: As Jordan grew, the Mr. Bears went on many adventures but eventually lived in a hammock above his bed. In honor of the Mr. Bears, however, Jordan did have a "tiny Mr. Bear" that he clipped on the rearview mirror of his car. Today the family of bears are stowed safely in a rubbermaid waiting to move in with Jordan and his wife, Sara- probably when there's a new little boy to love them.