For as long as I can remember, Pia had never been able to sleep

at night without her beloved Winnie the Pooh bolster pillow.  She

has two of these pillows, which came along with a set of three

(including the two bolsters) with Winnie the Pooh prints, given to her

by her grandmother when she was about six months old.  As children

go, they’d have a certain object of benevolence: a security blanket of

some sorts.  And this was Pia’s.  It was her “Pia Pooh.”

She calls the pillows “Pia Pooh,” “The Pooh,” or a variation thereof.

Winnie the Pooh was the one cartoon character Pia had grown fond of

since her infancy.  And this particular pillow somehow personified

Winnie the Pooh.

Yesterday night (it’s at present three something in the morning) was

the first night Pia had slept without her Pia Pooh.  We had

unintentionally left one pillow at her maternal grandmother’s house

near Congressional Avenue this evening.  Since she has a pair, we

usually leave one pillow at our house and one at her maternal

grandmother’s, as contingency measure.

I remember the first Sunday morning of 2005, as we were about to check

out of our room at EDSA Shangri-La Hotel.  We had inadvertently

packed away Pia Pooh with our luggage, which we had sent home in

advance.  Pia did not cease to cry until her Pia Pooh was returned

(his grandpa, who drove the luggage home, was already en route back to

the hotel, and had to turn back to retrieve the pillow–ah, the costs

of having peace of mind).  It was a disaster; no one could pacify

nor distract her from thinking about her Pia Pooh.

But last night would be different from the others.  It was during

this night when we were successful (marginally, though) in having Pia

sleep without her favorite pillow.  In the rush to get home we had

forgotten the single most important item we vowed never to forget

again: Pia Pooh.

All efforts were exhausted to pacify and distract Pia when she realized

that her Pia Pooh was nowhere to be found.  Fortunately, we had a

handful of medium-sized Pooh stuffed toys, and a giant Pooh/Piglet

bolster pillow to distract her with.  As we had hoped, these

sufficed for the meantime (until a very unfriendly 3:00 am wake-up call

from a certain toddler, hence this writing).

Caren specializes in child development and psychology, but Pia’s

attachment to her Pia Pooh seems to still confound her up to this

time.  Perhaps, this attachment is similar to my own childhood

attachment to an inanimate object (it was allegedly also a bolster

pillow, the name of which I’d rather not mention at this time). 

Perhaps, this is similar to other childrens’ attachment to their own

respective inanimate objects.

The miracle of nature they are, children are sure difficult to fully

comprehend (right now, I’m already wondering how Cate will be as a

toddler–but I still take things a day at a time, cherishing every

moment of her being an infant, watching her grow).

Pia is asleep, without her Pia Pooh.  I think it’s now also time for me hit the sack.

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