When Ethan nursed, he use to tuck one hand into the neck of my shirt, and, with the hand that was underneath him, he would pinch the soft skin under my arm. As he grew, the pinching began to hurt. I tried gently removing his hand, but it would always return. Not wanting to get annoyed, I knew I needed to find a substitute.
This little guy did the trick. Ethan adored him. "Nurse?" Ethan would say, causing us to both commence our scan of the room for Duckie. Ethan named him that. It was pronounced with the "ie" ending high, almost like a question, but not quite. He would eagerly scoop up the velvety little toy that fit perfectly in his small chubby, soft hand. Then he would run over and jump up into my cross-legged lap. After naturally sinking into a comfy position, Ethan would smile up at me, eyes bright, before losing himself in our nurturing snuggle. Sometimes I would sing. Sometimes he would hum. Nearly always I would rock or bounce, depending on the chair.
Duckie was present for lot of loving moments between Ethan and I. Those are sweet memories for me. And simple. So I think I'll leave the story there.
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