A wave of panic set over me.

“Where’s Wawa?” I ask, turning whatever is within my reach over to see if it’s hiding underneath.

Little B looks at me teary eyed, “I lost it.”

“When did you last have it?”

“I don’t know. Bubba had it.”

I look over at Bubba, who pretends not to hear us. “Hey, Bubba. Where’s Breebree’s Wawa?”

“I dunno…” I shoot my little guy the hairy eyeball, as he promptly turns over, ignoring us.

Wawa is my little girl’s snuggle bunny. It’s a soft lovie that was given to her on the day she was born. She’s had Wawa at her side every.single.night since that day; well, not THIS one exactly, as her current Wawa is generation three in a long line of Wawas, but one very much like it. Wawa has helped us through countless nights of teething, night terrors, and comforted her when the monsters visited her dreams. Wawa covers her eyes in the morning when Mommy opens the curtains, letting the (too) bright morning sun into her room. Wawa has traveled with us across the border to Canada, down to the Jersey Shore, and everywhere in between. My girlie has never spent a night without Wawa. We once lost Wawa but thankfully, Backup Wawa came to the rescue and the tears over the momentary loss were dried by a clean, fresh, new Wawa. That day, we set a rule that Wawa never leaves the house unless we are going on vacation.

Wawa actually refers to TWO Wawas – Backup Wawa became one of a pair about two years ago when my girl saw a clean pile of laundry piled on the bed, and spotted “ANOTHER WAWA!” perched perfectly on top. From that point forward, “Wawa” became the universal name for her two Wawas (AKA “Twin Wawas”), which are not complete unless they have each other.

“Breebree, can you sleep with just one Wawa?”

She sniffled at me, with her lip quivering, “No!!!!!! Wawa will be lonely.”

“But, Bree…it’s SO late…”

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!” She turns over in her bed. I spy her stroking the satin tag on her single Wawa; the one of the incomplete pair.

I get it. To her, they belong together just like she and her twin brother belong together and it just doesn’t feel the same without both by her side. Exasperated, I turn over the pillows and blankets once again, with no luck.

I briefly contemplate taking the brand new Extra Wawa out of her box – I don’t call it Backup Wawa anymore because it’s not really a backup – but I know that this just won’t cut it like it once used to. Real Wawa is torn, tattered and slightly dingy. One has a frayed satin tag which she loves to feel between her fingers, and the other has a tiny hole in the ear into which she loves to stick her even tinier fingertip. Extra Wawa is just too clean, too fresh and shows no signs of love (incidentally, I plan to keep her clean Extra Wawa until she goes off to college at which point, I will give it to her).

I sit down on the floor momentarily, trying to figure out where it might be; mentally going over every place that she may have taken Wawa since waking up. As I’m thinking, I hear her shuffle in bed.


“Yes, Honey?”

“My bumbum hurts.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I’m sitting on something.” She turns over and moves so that she can see what she’s been sitting on. “WAWA!!!!!!!” She triumphantly pulls Lost Wawa out from under her butt and clutches Lost Wawa and Not-Lost Wawa close to her chest, hugging them both tightly.

Victory declared. 45 minutes of searching, some tears from a toddler, a hairy eyeball to another toddler, and it’s been under her butt the entire time…

I think I owe my other kid an apology!

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