Playthings

   

Over the last several years, I have had the opportunity to watch 

children play. I love watching the difference between the way they play with the 

majority of their toys, and the way they play with their “special” toys. They treat 

them with a certain familiarity, as if they were good friends. As a child, I had three 

favorite toys. I had plenty of toys to choose from for sure, but these three were the 

ones that I went back to time after time. They were more like things to play with, 

rather than toys. I loved to be outside as a child and my first favorite plaything came 

from the outdoors.

The first plaything was my grass people, they were pieces of grass or 

weed that I would pretend were people, and I would play with them for hours. My 

grass people went on several adventures and did many things in the world that my 

imagination created for them. Very rarely were others allowed to engage in this play 

with me, it was a special place where my childish imagination had free range. There 

were many adventures taken; many things discovered. This little world of mine was 

so well developed that it was hard to bring others up to speed enough to let them 

play. It was usually entered into when I was outside in the yard alone. Once or twice, 

I let someone else join me in my adventures, but they were the exception to the rule.  

As the years went on, it became harder to imagine what was going on in this world 

of grass people. I was growing up, and as that happened, I lost a certain ability to 

imagine to the same degree that I had before. It was hard to leave this little world of 

mine, but leave I did.

Another of my playthings was a stuffed rabbit.  This little stuffed 

rabbit went everywhere with me. I think he might have been white once, but I’m not 

really sure. I carried him around by his ears. His ears had wires underneath the 

fabric to make them stand up, but due to the way I carried him, the wires wore out 

and no longer served their purpose. They added wonderful sensory input though. 

He would go with me to the doctor’s office (by his ears of course), and to church 

(again by his ears). There were several attempts by my mom to get me to leave the 

sad looking rabbit in the car or at home, but I always insisted that he come with me.  

He was a wonderful little companion. Sadly, after several years of being carried 

around by his ears, his head detached from his body and the poor little animal was 

buried.  

The last of my childhood playthings is by far the best. This plaything is 

still alive and well, though perhaps showing his age. My little brown friend was 

given to me 12 days before I was born. He was beautiful, a wonderful shade of 

brown, and he wore a blue bow. His eyes sparkled and he was fluffy. For years he 

was too big for my little arms to go around. He, however, was typical size for a teddy 

bear. He went with me on all trips, because without him I could not get to sleep. 

Whenever I was afraid, he was there to comfort me. He has dried many tears cried in 

the dark hours of the night. This silent friend has been an open ear to hear dreams 

and troubles. He has patiently put up with the silliness of young girls during 

sleepovers. Despite how much he was loved, he weathered the years fairly well. 

However, over the last few years he is starting to look a little more dilapidated. All of 

his stuffing is in one foot, he has a hole in his back that is quite persistent against 

repair, and one in his neck that is equally tenacious. He is not as beautiful. His 

wonderful brown color is faded. He hasn’t had his blue bow on in several years. In 

short, he is a very different bear now then he was in the beginning. In some ways 

though, he is very much the same. He is still the little brown friend that he was when 

he was beautiful, only now he’s irreplaceable. Irreplaceable because he has now 

passed the test of time and has proved his worth as a friend.  He is still around 

today. He doesn’t have any name, besides “bear”, or “teddy”, or “teddy bear”. I have 

never felt the need to name him. And why he has been a “he” my whole life? I shall 

never know. It’s just what he is. It’s the same for my poor rabbit. The rabbit was just 

rabbit and also a “he”. My grass people where both genders. It has always made me 

marvel at how a child’s mind works and how they make those distinctions.  

Children certainly know their special little friends better then we do. 

There is no need to tell them that these friends aren’t real or that they must remain 

behind. Deep down inside they know they aren’t real. And the need to take a toy or 

stuffed animal with them is often for the same reasons that an adult takes a book. 

They will eventually outgrow these needs for these “friends” as I outgrew my little 

grass people, but the memories of them will live on. They will then be passed down 

for generations, whether the actual toy or the stories of those imaginary people. I 

miss the times I spent with the grass people, I miss my rabbit. But I know that I am 

also able to function without them, because I had those wonderful times with them. I 

have moved onto the meat of life, the heavy things that children cannot handle. My 

bear stands as a reminder of such times. Times well enjoyed, wonderful memories, 

times that will never be again, but will always be there to  replay. I have never found 

a rabbit that felt the same way in my hand as my rabbit did, but I can still remember 

how it felt in my mind.