Years ago, when E was a newborn, there was a popular line of baby clothes with pictures from Eric Carle's "The Very Hungry Caterpillar". Just like the current line of pink and brown mix-and-match separates with bears and "Daddy Loves Me" embroidery that is infused into the new baby's wardrobe, those very tiny, very hungry caterpillars marched across E's sleepers, her bibs, several onesies, and even a tiny little hat with a tiny little tassel that fit her not-so-tiny little head for about eleven seconds. She also received a stuffed caterpillar with purple antennae and little stuffed brown feet and those characteristic large eyes straight out of the book. A friend of hers who was born about ten weeks before her, received the same caterpillar wardrobe that every baby born the summer of 2003 did, and the same stuffed caterpillar was stuck into his car seat and his stroller and his crib with him - just like E. The difference was that while E enjoyed her caterpillar immensely when she found herself in the company of him, her buddy just couldn't live without him - carrying him everywhere, sleeping with him, and loving all the fuzziness and color off of him in a "Velveteen Rabbit" sort of way. Their love affair ended abruptly one day when his caterpillar (ba-boo, I believe was his name) came up missing. By this time the caterpillar trend was waning, and newer lines of must-have baby clothes were in the big box stores, and that particular caterpillar was just nowhere to be found. Ebay searches produced nothing, every substitute caterpillar was purchased - caterpillar rattles and music boxes, thin ones, fat ones, miniature sized ones and oversized ones - but alas, none were just exactly right. So he asked E (in his kindest nearly three year old way) if he could have hers - the only one exactly like his lost ba-boo, and in return he'd give her the pick of all his substitutes. The two met, she shopped the alternatives, and finally selected the version that had obviously eaten through the smorgasbord and was nearing cocoon status. Oh - and it also sported a music box. Her friend was happy (and sleeping again) and E was ecstatic at her "trade up" and they moved on with their own green segmented friends.
E and her buddy I with the first ba-boo
Now he's back out again - the fancy version with the music, and the new baby is as smitten with it as E's friend was with his ba-boo. Ours hangs above the changing table, and she began by staring quizzically at him, then attempting to swat him, to her current attachment to grabbing fast and holding tight. Just the other night she started showing signs of understanding cause and effect. She knows that I grab it and pull down to make it play - her version is the much more spirited attempt to shake the living daylights out of him and make him cry for mercy. Either way, it's pretty effective. She's smitten. If she starts calling him ba-boo though, we're in trouble...
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