She has a Tigger stuffed animal (actually, she has two that we wash and switch out when one gets too gross) that HAS to go EVERYWHERE with her. She calls him “Tiggy”. For her birthday her uncle’s girlfriend tried to get her a smaller one to carry around with her and she looked at it like it was an alien and hugged HER Tiggy protectively.
She does, however, love anything else Tigger. (She has a pair of Tiggy socks that we have to pry off her feet to wash them.)
All of this and, oddly enough, the child has never seen a Winnie the Pooh cartoon.
None the less, I would like to dedicate this post to Tigger or, as he is known in our house, Mr. Tiggy. Thank you for keeping my child happy, warm and (in her world) safe. Thank you for sopping up tears and, sadly, vomit on occasion. Thank you for never complaining about the boogers and the urine or the fact that my child has loved the stripes right off of your neon orange body.
The other day we took Evelynn to Disneyland on a mission to find Tigger. When we finally found him she, litterally, cried tears of joy.
It was really cute. She kept knocking on doors and yelling “Tiggy treats!” instead of “Trick or Treat”.
I love that silly orange creature. Almost as much as she does.