I abhor stuffed animals.
I know...I know...what kind of cold hearted person doesn't like cute, cuddly, soft stuffed animals?
A mom whose house is being overrun by the little darlings, that's who.
I haven't always had an aversion to them. I loved my stuffed ET doll growing up, and Paddington bear, etc.
I finally hit my breaking point one day when I looked in the girls room and couldn't see their beds because they were covered with stuffed rodents, dogs, bunnies, and on and on. I know their room will never look like the cover of the Pottery Barn catalog, but this was just too much. I have to dig the girls out from under a mountain of these animals, just to kiss them goodnight. And have been known, on occasion, to accidentally tell a build a bear, "I love you, sweet dreams...".
I was forced to make the rule "Only 3 stuffed animals are allowed on your bed". The girls carefully went about selecting 3 special companions to sit upon their freshly made beds and to also keep them company at night. 3 has now been pushed to 4, because Reese has 2 special bears that are small enough to really just count as 1.
Occasionally I have to make a sweep through their room and remove the extra offending animal friends from atop their girly pastel quilts.
The other night I was tucking Reese in and as I fluffed her pillows, a small stoutly stuffed angel baby flew out from behind them. Hmmmm...so she's trying to hide them from me by sneaking them behind her pillows, I thought. I quickly grabbed it in one hand and tossed it into her closet.
Reese sat quietly observing this on her bed then said in an almost whisper, "That was my dream angel...I use it so I can dream about Jesus."
Of course, the dream angel was swiftly returned to her designated spot by a mommy who felt about 3 inches tall!