Each of our three kids has a Special Friend, a stuffed animal that is their comfort item and their sleep buddy. Captain Jelly Belly has a monkey named Big Wheel. Big has seen his share of love — he’s faded from multiple washings, his neck is floppy from many nighttime throttlings, and I’ve replaced his mouth at least four times. But overall, he’s really in pretty good shape; the Captain only snuggles with him at night and doesn’t usually play with him during the day, so Big is hanging in there.

Not so true for Gal Smiley’s friend, Shearly the Sheep. The Gal adores Shearly, and Shearly rarely leaves her side at any time during the day. Shearly watches TV with the Gal, she comes with us in the car whenever we are going somewhere, she joins us for tea parties and car races. Shearly is required to watch the Gal pee (not just lie on the bathroom floor — she must be propped up in a sitting position so she can learn something) and Shearly sits attentively on the back of the couch, watching, whenever Gal Smiley is eating.

As a result, Shearly is not in good shape. She once was a soft yellow colour, but now is pretty much grey-brown all over. Her eyes are both chipped from many trips through the washer and dryer. She’s lost most of her stuffing, and her left ear, which Gal Smiley likes to rub against her nose while falling asleep, is completely threadbare and threatening to develop an actual hole. Lately we’ve had lots of discussion about what to do about Shearly to preserve her life, but we just can’t bring ourselves to make the Gal give her up altogether.

Then, the day before yesterday, I took all three kids with me on an emergency trip to the Superstore. Gal Smiley and the Captain wanted to check out the toy aisle before we checked out, so I said okay. There, in the toy area, was a big bin of remaindered stuffed animals, one-of-a-kind types that were marked or dented or just left over from other stores. And at the top of the pile was…another Shearly. We know from Mrs. Carl Sagan, who also has a daughter who has a Special Friend Shearly, that they no longer make Shearly. So a $5 doppelganger, just sitting there waiting for us, seemed like fate.

She was so fluffy and yellow and plump, I could hardly believe it was the same animal:

We brought New Shearly home and I wasn’t too sure what my plan was going to be. Straight swap out? Old Shearly at night, New Shearly at day? Just play with both indiscriminately? I decided to just play it by ear and see what would happen.

I was surprised — Old Shearly was quickly and roughly tossed aside. It was all about the New Shearly. New Shearly watching TV. New Shearly watching the Gal pee. New Shearly playing games with the Gal and the Captain. Old Shearly…languishing in the bed. I felt rather sad about it. I know that when other people look at Old Shearly, they see a stained, germ-infested scrap of fabric that should be tossed out or preferrably burned. But when I look at Old Shearly, I see a dear friend that has been through many good times and bad with this family. I see the physical manifestation of my daughter’s huge capacity to love.

By the end of the day, the excitement was wearing off a little and Gal Smiley was walking around with both Shearlys, although she continued to claim that New Shearly was her favourite. At nighttime, we crawled into her bed for storytime with both Shearlys, and the Gal told me that she was going to keep New Shearly, and I could have Old Shearly as my friend. I still felt kind of sad about it, but I thought, so be it, it’s for the best, and I quietly took Old Shearly over to my side of the bed.

We finished our story and I turned out the light. As we were saying goodnight, Gal Smiley said to me very quietly, “Mommy? Do you want to trade?”

So I handed back Old Shearly, and Gal Smiley resumed her familiar position, rubbing Shearly’s ear on her nose. New Shearly got to sleep on the cold side of the bed. I was happy.

Now it seems we’re in a groove where New Shearly gets the roughhousing kind of play, and Old Shearly is still the sleep friend and go-to animal for times of tension and sadness. They’re a comfort team. I like it.