Dede, Pronounced (Dee Dee)

When my daughter, Sophie, was about eight months old, we went camping in the Upper Peninsula in Michigan. We were about an hour into the trip when I realized that we forgot Dede at home. I quickly alerted my husband and requested that we stop at the closest Target to get another one. She'll be fine. He said. She won't even notice. He said.

Let's just say that Sophie barely slept the entire time we were gone. She didn't have Dede. Dede has been a constant in her life since she was born. I would often find Dede over Sophie's face while she slept. When Sophie was awake, Dede was there on whatever adventure Sophie took her on. If Sophie was hurt, Dede was who Sophie went to before me.

Dede has been with Sophie for nine years. But last night something happened. I went to tuck Sophie in, and she tossed Dede to the end of her bed.

"Soph, what are you doing?"

"I need to work on not sleeping with Dede."

I didn't even ask why.

I was upset. Upset that my youngest is no longer little. Upset that her lovey might not be the most important thing in her life anymore. Upset that I was reacting this way.

Maybe Dede isn't just important to Sophie but to me as well. Because Dede reminds me of Soph's childhood. And she is growing up, and I am not ready.

Dede