Clinging To Bears, Blankets, And The Comfort They Bring—

Transitional Objects Give Life A Soft Landing

By Nancy K. Crevier

“Bendy” is about 12 inches tall and made of a pink, feltlike material with a white cloth insert that stretches in a “V,” tuxedolike, from his neckless head to his legs. He is stuffed with some kind of firm but cushy filling that allows his thin arms and chunky legs to bend where they adjoin the trunk, and his face is studded with two black and white button eyes affixed to round, red felt backgrounds. Floppy pink ears jut out from each side of his wide head. At the tip of his blunt, doglike muzzle is a black thread nose, and his tongue is an embroidered mass of bright red thread. It has never been clear to me if Bendy is man or beast, but since I first laid eyes on him the Christmas of 1959, it never mattered. I loved Bendy.

He went everywhere with me for a good number of years and saw me through many toddler crises. When my sister’s Barbie needed a groom, Bendy was willing and able to stand in for the missing Ken doll. When Barbie and Ken needed a priest to marry them, “Father Bendy” was there to administer communion and join them in holy wedlock. Bendy slept peacefully on the pillow next to me every night, and accompanied me to my aunt’s each day — where my uncle firmly declared that Bendy, who spoke in a high, squeaky voice, was in great need of a quiet nap by midmorning. He was my confidant while my sisters were in school, and my companion when no friends were around. Bendy was my advocate at the doctor’s office and bravely stepped up to show me that shots were bearable.

As difficult as it is for the Charles Schulz “Lucy” comic strip character to disengage her brother Linus from his blanket, it would have been easily twice as hard to separate me from Bendy in our heyday.

But a very worn Bendy (actually wearing his second “skin”) has since retired to a bottom drawer, safe from the elements and marauding cats, as has happened to the “lovies” of many other adults with whom I spoke. They are out of sight, but not completely out of mind.

“There is that element in each of us that can live through the experiences of Linus with his security blanket,” said Ruth Schofield, licensed marriage and family therapist. It is not uncommon, she said, for children to have what is called a “transitional object” such as a doll, stuffed animal, blanket, or other item to which they form an attachment.

An article written for whattoexpect.com, a web offshoot of the popular pregnancy and early childhood book What To Expect When You’re Expecting by Heidi Murkoff and Sharon Mazel, agreed, noting that approximately 60 percent of children adopt an attachment, often around nine months of age, to a “substitute mommy” that stands in particularly when a child is sleepy, sick, or anxious.

Transitional objects serve as a bridge from infancy to independence, said Ms Schofield, and normally serve as a soothing method of self-comfort. The “lovie,” “woobie,” or “blankie” may assist a child in getting through anxious moments, separation, or as a calming “sedative” at bedtime. They are different, however than imaginary friends, which take on a more human persona and are not always embodied in a tangible object.

In her book Imaginary Companions and the Children Who Create Them, author Marjorie Taylor differentiates between the transient object and imaginary friends. “Some children have a teddy bear that they habitually cling to sleep with, and use for comfort… Transitional objects are of interest to psychologists because they are believed to help some children work out the distinction between self and other, but enjoying the comfort of a soft toy is not the same as creating a distinct personality for it.” There is, she notes, some crossover between the two items at times, with stuffed toys taking on humanlike properties and being treated as a friend or playmate.

Ms Taylor’s book looks at why children create imaginary friends. One reason is for fun and companionship; another is to abate loneliness, such as when a sibling is born; to resolve issues of competence; restrictions or limitations in life that the “friend” can overcome more easily; to avoid blame; as a way of coping with fears and trauma; as a method of communication; and to process significant events or people. A very special stuffed toy can also help children to deal with many of these same issues.

Generally by the time a child is 5 or 6 years old, the need for the transitional object has dissipated. But despite no longer needing to bring the object everywhere, every time, many of these “lovies” earn a place of honor on a shelf, or are tenderly boxed and stored safely — for years.

Clop Clop And Kitty Cat

Neal Kent had such fond memories of Clop Clop the pony and Kitty Cat, that when his daughter Samantha was born 16 years ago, he tried (futilely) to introduce them to the new baby as playthings. At 35 years old, though, Clop Clop and Kitty Cat had seen better days and got the thumbs down from his wife.

“They were so fifties. One was even made of corduroy,” said Katie Kent of the treasured duo Mr Kent had received from his grandparents, “and they were both pretty grubby.” Clop Clop and Kitty Cat returned to deep storage, to spend the rest of their fuzzy lives on Memory Lane.

“Yes, I still have my rabbit,” declared Newtown resident Denise Kaiser. “I don’t remember when I got it, but I do remember getting very upset at maybe age 6 when it lost an eye. With much perseverance, we found another pair of pink buttons to sew on as [matching] replacements,” she recalled. She had left the bunny behind when she went off to school, and married, but when clearing out her parents’ home this past year, there it was, still on the shelf in her old room. “What could I do? She came home with me,” said Ms Kaiser.

One of the reasons that “lovies” end up moving from place to place, no matter how raggedy and worn they become, is that no matter how grown up a person becomes, and no matter how far removed a person is from the original crisis first calmed by a transitional object, “There is that part in each of us that is still a little bit wounded,” said Ms Schofield. The old friend, even if tucked away in a drawer or high on a shelf, still bestows that same sense of calm when brought to mind.

Perhaps it is a parent’s memory of their own treasured blanket or toy that causes him or her to respond sympathetically to their own child’s distress when a “lovie” goes missing, or to go out of the way to retrieve or mend a transitional object beloved by their child.

Too Important To Leave Behind

Fran Ashbolt recalled that when her teenage daughter, Emily, was just a toddler, Cuddley Cuddley, a crocheted pink blanket made by her grandmother, went everywhere with the little girl. “She was so attached to it that she gripped it tightly in her sleep lest I should — heaven forbid — try to wash it,” said Ms Ashbolt. “If I ever did manage to wash it, she would hold onto the end that she could reach whilst it was drying on the washing line outside.”

Cuddley Cuddley became even more vital to Emily’s comfort when the family moved from England to Newtown, and one blanket adventure in particular stands out for Ms Ashbolt. “On our first visit back to the UK we missed our plane and had a very long and distressing time at the airport trying to get on another flight. Stephen [Emily’s older brother], liked to bait Emily by tossing Cuddley Cuddley in the air. Whilst we were waiting to see if we could be squeezed onto a later plane, he tossed Cuddley a little too high and it landed on the sill over the entry door, high out of reach. It had to be retrieved, very reluctantly, by airport maintenance staff and in the meantime we almost missed the second plane!” she said. As many parents of children with transitional objects know, leaving behind the Cuddley was unthinkable. How much a family decides to let the “lovie” interrupt life is an individual decision, though.

 

Setting Limits

A transitional object only becomes a problem if parents allow it to do so, said Ms Schofield. “For instance, if you are going out to eat and the child insists that the grubby object must come with, then it might become a bit much,” she said. But this is where clever parenting skills come into play, acknowledging the importance of the object in the child’s life while not letting it intrude on the comfort level of others.

“Frequently parents become creative. Teddy wasn’t invited to the event, they might point out. However, Teddy could go along for the ride, wait in the car, and the child can bring Teddy a treat after all is done,” Ms Schofield used as an example. Or a parent will stuff the toy or blanket into a large purse or bag. For many children, just knowing the “lovie” is nearby is enough, she said. “Parents must learn to finesse with the child and the object, just as they do in other aspects of childrearing,” said Ms Schofield.

The intense bond a child feels toward a “lovie” may be because children possibly believe that a particular object possesses a hidden “essence” that differentiates it from all others, even exact copies, according to a study by Dr Paul Bloom of the Department of Psychology at Yale University. In a study published by Dr Bloom and Professor Bruce Hood of the Bristol Cognitive Development Centre in England in 2007, children showed a definite preference for original objects over duplicates that resulted from having been “copied” in a “copy machine.” Most preferred the original simply “because it is mine.”

While most attachments are formed as toddlers, it is not out of the question for a stressful period to result in a particular attachment with an older child.

Finding Balance

Beth Agen, director of NYFS, has Friendship Bear, a six-inch, orange and white “Care Bear” who came to her in 1982 when family life was not going so well. “My father had passed away in January, and in July my brother left for the Air Force. Mother was only holding on by a thread and getting on my last nerve. So, at 16 years of age, I was feeling very much alone and sad,” recalled Ms Agen. The Friendship Bear arrived in a package from her brother. Attached to the bear was a simple note: “To my sister, Beth, who is my friend. From, Brad.” Friendship Bear has stuck by her, she said, through thick and thin for the last 26 years. “Friendship Bear has the wisdom of the Velveteen Rabbit in his eyes and some day I hope to love him enough to make him real,” she said. For now, the wise bear watches over Ms Agen from a perch in her home office. “I feel protected and loved, no matter where my friend, my brother, may be.”

Many adults do not recall ever having had one special toy or blanket that they used for comfort, including Ms Schofield. “I think it just says that some children find another source of comfort that may not be so obvious as a transitional object. Some children might get lost in a creative process in their head as they go to sleep, an imaginary world that serves as a source of internal comfort,” she said.

“We need to be aware of not going overboard. Life is about balance,” added Ms Schofield. “If a child has a transitional object, that is wonderful. But it should be a transition into a more grown-up stage.”

What does it say that so many adults still have that special object 10, 20, or 30 years later? Not a thing, said Ms Schofield. “What is significant, is if the adult is still sleeping with it or conferring with it. There is nothing wrong with having it as a keepsake that you might go by and have it offer up a pleasant memory, or take it down and look at it to soften some of life’s harder moments,” she said. “Life has too many hard moments to not use whatever it takes to soften it.”