“It’s got to be in the back of the car,” I huffed.
“I wish you would have let me go back and look for it,” Scott muttered.
“WHAT? Were we going to just comb back through the entire park and parking lot? If it’s there… it’s gone,” I hissed.
It was 10:30, the night of Kendall’s birthday party. We just got home from the baseball game.
And we couldn’t find Lambie.
The Lambie Leyna’s had since before she turned one. The Lambie my dad gave her. The Lambie she has grown increasingly attached to over the last 1.5 years.
The Lambie we all rely on to help her sleep.
Defeated, Scott insisted it had to have fallen out of his pocket in the parking lot on his way into the party hours earlier. Of course, the blame game was in full swing.
“THIS is why I never want her to take it out of the house,” he rattled.
“Dude. There is nothing we can do about it now. We packed it because we knew she’d be tired. What’s done is done,” I sighed, and headed straight for the office.
I scoured the internet intently for about 30 minutes before I found it. I couldn’t remember what brand it was. I had no idea where my dad got it. I googled “wool lamb head blanket blue plaid.” I think that was the lucky search term that lead me to an Amazon link.
Eureka! Prime shipping and everything. I purchased it within minutes.
Of course, it was great that we could order a backup (though it wasn’t cheap to replace). But Scott and I were both so sad that the original was gone. A replacement just wouldn’t be the same… for any of us.
Leyna actually slept okay without it that night. My mom, the quick thinking, ex-preshcool teacher, found a smaller bear-head-on-blanket that Kendall had. It was cream colored, also. She told Leyna it was “little tiny lambie,” and that, combined with the sheer exhaustion from the day, was enough to get her to sleep.
The next day, I called the RoughRiders office, not at all expecting them to actually have Lambie. Just more out of obligation, to say that I tried everything. I mean, had we left it in the park, I felt it would have had a good chance of being turned in. But the parking lot? Somebody would have had to pick it up, walk into the ballpark with it, and find the right person to give it to. That’s an awful lot to expect from most people these days, especially when it comes to a grayish, ragged little lamb head stuck to a worn blanket.
I described what it looked like to the man on the other line, and for the first time Leyna came running up to me asking, “Where’s Lambie?? Where? I talk to him, momma?” while she reached for the phone. My heart almost started to break all over until the incredibly kind man interrupted.
“Yeah… yeah! I have it. Yup. Exactly. It’s right here,” he seemed as happy as I was.
I left immediately to bring him home.
I don’t know who took the time to pick him up and take him into the park, who took the time to find the right person to turn him into. I don’t know who looked at that thing and figured someone might miss him, but thank you. Thank you so much. And thank you, Frisco RoughRiders, for keeping him safe.
We have a new Lambie now. He was delivered today. I don’t quite know what to do with him. Scott thinks we should hide him, and only break him out in case of emergency. Like maybe we should put him in a glass case with an ax next to it. I feel like maybe we should start rotating him in, so he gets to be just as worn, loved, and indistinguishable with time. My mom suggested having one “home” Lambie and one “car” Lambie.
No matter the method, I feel very strongly that I must somehow make it clear which one is the original. And then I must protect it with my life. The decoy can come and go, but the original carries a piece of MY heart with it. I know this now.
Reunited and ready for bed… after an episode of Wonder Pets, of course. I bet Lambie could recite every Wonder Pets episode if he could talk.
Edited to add this amazing video of a reunited lovey and his boy. Oh my heart, get the tissues.