by D.O. Foreman

Created on: January 25, 2007   Last Updated: April 25, 2007

My son was only four years old when my wife and I divorced. For financial and other reasons I moved, with my son, 2000 miles away to San Antonio where I had family. Needless to say that at such a young age this was a drastic change for my son. Not only would he rarely see his mother, but he was leaving behind his friends from daycare and thrown into a completely different environment.

Oregon to San Antonio is a long drive. After saying goodbye to his mother, my son cried his tears and fears into the embrace of his stuffed bear, Boo Boo. During the three days it took to drive to Texas, Boo Boo made our family a threesome and didn't leave my son's sight for nearly a year. Boo Boo became a surrogate that I apparently couldn't and I will admit to a bit of jealousy. But Boo Boo weathered with us that tough year, through feast and famine- and, a daycare director who thought that Boo Boo shouldn't be such a large part of my son's life.
(NOTE: don't ever mess with Papa Bear's cubs!)
After a year life grew better for us. Boo Boo had stood fast as friend and comforter. It was then a new member of the family joined us. A Gray and white kitten named Simba. My son instantly fell in love and ran head first into his new role and responsibility as caretaker of an actual living creature. And, slowly but surely, Boo Boo kinda fell by the wayside.
It struck me one day as we were heading for the grocery store. Unlocking the pickup I proclaimed our usual cheer of "buckle-up the bear!". My son looked at me then lowered his eyes as if he had done something wrong. "I left Boo Boo in the house, Daddy," he said, still looking down at his feet.
"Well, that's okay, Buddy, " I tell him, "he will be fine alone."
"Do you want me to go get him, Daddy?"
"Only if you want to." My son looked from me to the house, then back to me again. "Naw," he tells me, "lets buckle up and go by ourselves."
I guess Boo Boo the bear's job was done. He kept a place of honor atop our television set for the next six months where he could still watch over us.
After six months, Boo Boo the bear met his fate at the hands- er, claws of Simba the cat. We came home one day to find poor Boo Boo's innards fluffed about the living room. It had been a massacre. Seeing the carnage, my son attempted to heal the bear, but the damage was too great. I think I was more sad than my son.
He cursed the silly cat in boy language for having to pick up the mess.
Eleven years later, my son and I still reminisce about that bear.
And to this day, Simba the cat has never had to share his affections for my son with anyone else.
I will say, though, I was always a little jealous of that bear.

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