racoma.com.phJ. Angelo Racoma on technology, economics, writing, problogging, and getting things done

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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