Mrs Bear’s Triumphant Return

I wrote a post on the blog, and asked someone on Twitter to RT it. What followed, frankly, blew me away.
A number of twitter users contacted me, asking if they could help.  People I “know” on Facebook contacted me, wanting to help too.  They all suggested the same thing – that Mrs Bear had on holiday, and would want to send tales of her adventures home to her favourite Boy.
A stack of postcards arrived for The Boy from Mrs Bear, detailing her travels both across the UK and globally. 


Next, a number of extremely kind people started to send him “cousins” of Mrs Bear, who Mrs Bear had decided should come to stay with him to make sure that he was ok.

These are literally just a very small number of the bears and cards that he was sent.  They still reside in his bed, with favourites Patch (a blue dog that came to stay a few days after Mrs Bear went travelling) and the new Mrs Bear taking pride of place on his pillow when he is not there cuddling them.
After a panic stricken month, and the realization that Mrs Bear was not coming back (despite our efforts and those of our local shops in Waltham Cross putting up posters advertising The Boy’s lost bear, we knew that our only chance lay with trying to find a replacement.  All we could find listed on ebay was innumerable cream or blue bears, and we knew that we would have to do some very specific work on Mrs Bear.
When Mrs Bear first joined us at Wiltshire Towers (proprietors at the time : The Boy and Big Momma K), she was a very bright pink.  She remained a very bright pink, until Mummy accidentally put her in the wash with a blue sock, when she became a rather stunning purple.  The Boy didn’t seem to mind, but I knew that it would involve a good deal of work on my part to make any interloper look a convincing friend for The Boy.
A new bear was eventually found on ebay by Himself, after a great deal of help from various very dear and kind friends who also scoured sale sites, lost toy sites, craft sales and their local charity shops daily.
When she was arrived at the newly established Wiltshire Towers (CEO : Lid), she was so blindingly pink that I couldn’t believe that the original Mrs Bear had ever shared that colour.  The process began.
Whereas this bear was plump, Mrs Bear had become emaciated from cuddles.  She had been placed on The Boy’s face many times to offer him comfort and relaxation as he struggled to sleep every night.  She had been used to calm his hands when he was particularly upset. 
The allure of the original Mrs Bear was not her cuddliness, but that she stank of Mummy.  Everytime she was washed, she would be tucked in my bra next  to my left bosom, so that she would emanate comforting Mummy stench when I was at work.
She also had to be washed and that colour amended.
It was a terrifying week where I tried to emulate that original Bear look.  She was washed three times a day to make her less full.  A variety of dark clothes were used to amend her colour.  She was cuddled by me almost 24 hours a day, secreted somewhere on my person.
We started to prepare The Boy that, maybe, Mrs Bear would not look the same when she came home.  She may be a different colour.  She may be bigger than he remembered.  She might not smell the same.
Eventually, when it came to Mrs Bear’s triumphant return, all plans and bets were off.  The Boy saw her peeping out of my top, and screamed with joy.  He grabbed her, and cuddled her, held her close and was determined that he would keep her safe. 
The result? However much I worried, I think that this says it all.
Many thanks to all of you who gave your time, postcards, bears and help. Whilst the “real” Mrs Bear did a Sam Beckett, I think this one makes an admirable replacement. 

Thank you to all.

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Karen Wiltshire on Twitter
Karen Wiltshire
Ramblings from a deranged, adult company starved, wibbly mind
Karen Wiltshire

Karen Wiltshire

Ramblings from a deranged, adult company starved, wibbly mind

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