I never realized how sad it would make me—or how much it would hurt—to say goodbye to our Bing Bong. If you don’t know who Bing Bong is, do yourself a favor and watch Disney’s Inside Out. I double dare you not to cry.
I mentioned to my husband this morning that I noticed our daughter is playing a lot more with her Barbies and her dollhouse these days—as opposed to her babies—and I commented how nice it is to watch and listen to her make believe in this way. But then it dawned on me that I haven’t seen her “mommy” her beloved Valerie in quite a while—months in fact—and this intense wave of nostalgia and grief washed over me. You see, Valerie is my daughter’s most favorite precious baby doll in the whole wide world. Or at least she used to be.
Valerie came to us on Christmas Day in 2015, a month before my daughter turned 2, and holy cow did she fall in love with this doll! I’m talking pure unadulterated, unconditional, unparalleled love. No matter where we went, who we saw, what we did, Valerie was with us. Everyone, and I mean everyone, close to us knows Valerie. We even took to calling her the fifth member of our family. LOL.
She’s photo-bombed umpteenth family pictures. She’s traveled everywhere (Disney, the beach, big cities, small towns, the doctor’s office, the grocery store, school, you name it). If we visited somewhere, she was there too. We’ve celebrated her birthdays (she turned 1 more times than any kid I’ve ever known!), her milestones (“Valerie started walking today, Momma!”), and her accomplishments (“Mommy, Valerie’s eating all of her vegetables like a good girl!”). She’s got her own bunk beds, clothes, strollers, a swing, car seats, a highchair, a walker, dishes, utensils, bottles, a pack n play, a changing station, even a bathrobe for goodness sake! I think it’s safe to say my husband and I have purchased more baby gear and supplies for Valerie than we have for both of our children combined, and so too have our extended family members (the thought of this always cracks me up!). We even bought two “emergency” Valeries (which we hid in our closet) just in case we lost the original, which we did—once and only once! I’m laughing with tears in my eyes as I write this. What a life Valerie has lived!! 😊
But all that pales in comparison to what Valerie did for my daughter. She gave my baby an outlet, a comforting space, a Bing Bong. It’s no coincidence that whenever my daughter was upset or afraid or angry or annoyed or excited or happy, she used Valerie as her “voice,” a safe, loving, constructive way
to process and convey her feelings and emotions to the outside world. To safeguard. To self-soothe. To cope. To love. Valerie wasn’t just a toy to my daughter; Valerie was a reflection of herself. And there it is, the thing: By cherishing and protecting Valerie, my sweet girl learned to cherish and protect herself. That’s something we parents just can’t put a price on. Because those lessons will play a critical role in who my daughter becomes, both as a woman and as a momma.
I know one day I’m going to find Valerie tucked away high up on a shelf in my daughter’s closet, dirty and drab and dusty, and I’m going to curl up into a ball and cry my heart out for the little girl my daughter used to be. But then I’d like to think I’ll remind myself of the happiness and the hope and the friendship that Valerie signifies, and be at peace knowing that no matter how far our Valerie fades away into the depths of our memories, she’ll never truly be gone because she lives within all of us now. And no matter how old my daughter gets she’ll always be my little girl. The one who cherished her beloved doll to the ends of the earth and who never failed to remind me that she was going to be a momma one day—something she may never have realized if it hadn’t been for Valerie.
So, yeah, I never thought I would feel such profound sorrow over the loss of a childhood toy. But then again, Valerie isn’t a toy. She’s family. And she always will be.