The boys have a stuffed penguin. I’m not sure where it came from. They play with it from time to time, though I wouldn’t have considered it to be among their prized possessions. The other day Stephen noticed the penguin’s foot was coming off and asked me to sew it back together. I told him I would, but couldn’t at the moment. No more was said about it and I didn’t see or think about penguin again.
After putting the boys to bed last night I was in the kitchen washing the dishes and Adam asked if the boys were talking or crying. On entering the room I saw Isaac and Stephen in the same bed leaning over something and heard these mournful words: “I’m sorry, Penguin. I tried to save you. I’m sorry you’re dying!” With this both boys burst into all out wails over their beloved penguin. I was sorry of course they were so distraught, but it was all I could do to keep from laughing over the whole situation, especially when Adam came down to see what the matter was and I had to tell them it was over a stuffed penguin. I brought penguin upstairs for surgery–he was rather worse for wear with both feet separating, a hole in his back and a wing. After a bit of stitching I returned him to his devoted, sleeping guardians. I guess when we do our spring cleaning, penguin will be sticking around.