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May 14, 2005 Rubber Duckie, you're the one 
Frances has finally found herself a "Transitional Object," as the developmental psychologists call it. In layspeak, The Toy That Must Not Be Left Behind. She brings it with her everywhere around the house, clenched tightly in her right fist, and often stuffed into her mouth. This is quite difficult when one is not yet walking and necessitates dragging her butt along the ground with her free hand. She becomes quite upset if it is out of eyesight for even the briefest moment. She will not put it down even to eat or hold her sippy cup. It goes upstairs; it goes downstairs; it goes in the car. It is her little rubber duckie. Is this the only baby in the world who prefers a little rubber duckie bath toy to a stuffed animal or blanket? Posted by Andrea at May 14, 2005 9:48 AM under Beanie Baby Brags EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments Josephine fell in love with this duckie when she saw it in the store on our last trip to Buffalo: Be glad Frances' is small! Looks good - nice banner! Posted by: Marla at May 14, 2005 10:26 AM
Could be worse. Your child could be carrying around both the rubber duckie and the blankie.... like mine has been known to do. :-) Posted by: Angry Pregnant Lawyer at May 15, 2005 9:25 PM
Haha, APL--she has to learn how to walk before she can do that! Otherwise she'll be totally immobile. Stuck in place with a toy in each fist. Not that I would put this past her.... Posted by: Andrea at May 16, 2005 7:39 AM
I wish mine would take to a rubber duckie. Or a blankie. Or an old yogurt container, for that matter. Any Transitional Object. Because my milk-producing-units (trying to be discreet so as not to set off the suspicions of any spam blockers) are TIRED, and would like to hand off comfort duties to something else once in awhile.... Posted by: Phantom Scribbler at May 16, 2005 8:22 PM
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Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "What is an anarchist? One who, choosing, accepts the responsibility of choice." Ursula le Guin Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
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The title of this blog was taken from the short story "The Language of Nna Mmoy" by Ursula le Guin in her collection, Changing Planes. I won't tell you why or how, because I want you to read the story and figure it out for yourself.
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