Toys: A Short History

How cute is this pillow sold by verovero studio on Etsy? I have been obsessing over it for weeks. Wouldn't it be cute on my bed? Or is it too cutesy, like a stuffed animal?

I have a confession: I hate stuffed animals.

I've always hated them.

It started when I was a wee child and my grandmother gave me a hand-made sock monkey which terrified the bejesus out of me. Everyday I would throw the monkey as far away as I could, which usually meant the top shelf of my mother's closet and everyday she would find it and return it to my room. The next day I would discover it taunting me from my dresser. I was pretty sure the damn thing was possessed and flew back into my room to ruin my life forever. Just like the clown in The Poltergeist, which I had pretended to like at a sleepover but from which I still have not recovered to this day.

From the ages of 4-7 I was presented with teddy bears and numerous barnyard animals and each one was tossed aside or given to my little sister. Who has use for such things? I was much more interested in my growing costume collection and the prospect of turning my bedroom into Barbie's Dream House. In Junior High I quickly learned that my disdain for such toys was not something my friends at school shared so I had to fake a love of stuffed animals for several years, a move which was not as smart in retrospect as my feigned enthusiasm led to a cavalcade of stuffed lions and tigers and bears at every birthday party. Fail. Still, I couldn't reveal my true feelings. Don't even get me started on the whole Beanie Baby phenomenon.

In High School my best friend and I ran away to NYC for a day and though I specifically tried to avoid it, we wound up at FAO Schwartz where I spent probably $50 on a small stuffed pig I named Hamlet. I gave him to the little boy I babysat and then told my friend he actually stole it. Kids can be assholes, ya know?

There has been only one exception in my life: my stuffed dog Tiffany. Tiffany was an actual dog owned by my grandmother and in reality, I liked her only a little. She lived in CT while I lived in MN and when I came to visit she drooled all over me, which usually ruined my outfit. She died when I was 8 and, having never dealt with death before, I locked myself in my room for several hours and listed to Eleanor Rigby and wore black because that was what the Victorians did. My grandmother felt bad and so she bought me a stuffed cocker spaniel named Tiffany to replace her. The real Tiffany was a golden retriever but whatever. Thanks for the thought, Nana. Anyway, my new Tiffany is basically a fur-covered bolster pillow and I am accustomed to the nice lump she makes under my pillow at night and I adore her. I even pretended not to be heart-broken when my mother's evil dog bit off her little leather nose when I was 16. Even though I have never been into stuffed animals or the idea that a grown woman should EVER have them in her house especially if she is single, I still keep her close and can't bring myself to get rid of her.  I have even considered inserting her into a bolster pillow-cover so she would be more socially acceptable but is that crazy? Yes, I think it is.

Also, how bonkers would I be if I had this pillow AND a stuffed dog at 28? Is that just asking to be ushered over into crazy cat lady territory and inducted into the spinster club? Perhaps I should aim for something a little sexier than bunnies and puppies.

Question: What is the sexy version of bunnies and puppies?

Image: verovero studio