When Andy was little, he fell in love with a stuffed dog. It was a cute, brown Gund, officially named a Treynor. Once I noticed the love, I made a point to order a few extras. What I didn't realize was they came in various sizes so I ended up with a few little Treynors (that bark if you squeeze them) and a bigger version. Andy saw the bigger one and had to have it, too. We (I) named them Mutt and Jeff.
That worked pretty well for a while. I had spares on hand to wash in case of emergency. It was also nice to know that if one was lost, the world wouldn't end because we had it covered.
When Andy started his new school in February, he had a whole new nap routine. To make it easier, I sent along a Mutt back-up dog for him to sleep with at nap time. That seemed to be going pretty well. Andy didn't really question why Mutt was here and there. Until recently.
Andy pressured me into naming the new dog since it was obvious it wasn't Mutt. So I came up with Steve. Random. And, of course, it stuck. Now he loves Mutt, Jeff AND Steve -- what a happy trio -- and insists that Steve go with him back and forth to school now. Around the house, he now talks to his dogs and takes all three of them with him everywhere. I am a little worried that at this rate, he's going to find the spare Jeffs hidden in the closet and he'll be carrying six matching stuffed dogs any time we leave the house.