When she was born, I bought her a cuddly bear, almost as big as she was, and she slept with it every night. When her first birthday came around, the natal bear was a bit tattered, so I bought her a replacement, and upon her second birthday another. By birthday three, she was talking and made it clear what she expected (she is and always has been a most insistent girl).
Over the years, it’s turned into a tradition. The one year I tried to send her enough extra birthday money to buy a bear, she told me in no uncertain terms what she thought of that idea.
So, every December she gets a teddy bear; some years, she gets more than one. I try to add a touch of whimsy, too.
When she was twenty, I sent Bat Bear and Robear, the Bruin Wonder, in full costume, of course; three years ago, I sent four bears wearing identical bowties. They were the BearBearshop Quartet, and arrived with an autographed fan photo and a CD of their latest hits.
Anyway, that’s the bears’ tale. I hope you have a happy birthday, Baby, and that your life is filled with ursine reveries and bruinish accord.
