I learned how to crochet so that I could make a Hobbes doll for my cousin. My youngest saw and wanted one as well. After that, they wanted this happy, buttery yellow stabby duck (a duck holding a knife, of course). I'm a very slow crocheter, so Hobbes took me about a month, and the much smaller duck took about a week. There were several months in between each requested project.

At some point, both stuffies made their way back to me. My youngest came and tucked first Hobbes, then an unknown number of weeks or months later, Stabby Duck, in my bed.

At first I was hurt. I had spent so much time and effort making those specifically because my child wanted them. I had imagined them with a collection of homemade stuffed animals that they cherished and would love long after I'm gone. But I didn't say anything, because I'm not going to force anyone to love anything. So I moved the stuffies to the side, tucked into a little crevice next to my bed, and went on with life. Every now and then they'd be placed back on my bed, usually right on the pillow, like a game of "guess who's still here??" I thought Youngest was just messing with me.

One day, a few years ago, I was too sick to get out of bed. Youngest came and tucked Hobbes and Stabby Duck right next to me, one on each side. It finally clicked.

Youngest hadn't lost interest in the stuffed animals. They loved them so much that the stuffies became like protective talismans. And because Youngest loves me and their father so much, those stuffies were there to protect us at our most vulnerable, while we slept.

Hobbes and Stabby Duck are still next to my bed. Within the last year they've been joined by Appa the flying bison, who was store-bought, but also requested.

We'll see if Youngest needs their love, care, and protection when they leave for college in a few years, or if the stuffies will remain at home, continuing their nighttime vigil every night.