BooBoo Bear

BooBoo Bear

BooBoo Bear had dun-colored fur and a shiny green bow and was introduced to the children after sitting placidly under the Christmas tree from around 2 am (tired grownup time) to 6:42 am (early children’s time) on Christmas day 1987. Presents sparkled anonymously in fancy wrapping, and the tree glowed. Patrick and Clarissa scuffled through the kitchen into the Christmas room. A large stuffed bear sat under the tree wrapped only in a green bow. Clarissa was hesitant: the bear was as big as she was. Even the mild wool smile didn’t reassure her immediately. Whose toy was it? Who was it for? Patrick claimed it was for him –- he was the older one and anyway Clarissa liked dolls, the fleshy, fatty sorts of baby dolls that leaked onto doll pants. Real ick. This bear stood out and meant business. Patrick’s business.  But by the time the old folks had stumbled downstairs Patrick was unwrapping a train set and a box of farm animals and began to create a country landscape which included small twigs snapped from the tree and some new wooden farm animals.  Clarissa, now less intimidated by the sheer size of the stuffed toy and with her brother distracted, approached the bear, found it was very soft and claimed it.  Patrick looked up and hissed at her to let it alone, it was obviously his bear and he'd get back to it later. 

When the Mah and Dah padded downstairs around 8 am they were instantly summoned as mediators, that burdensome parental role. All they wanted was coffee, Mah said please wait a minute kidlets while we get it. The machine had to be rinsed, filter filled, pot placed, switch switched, as the dispensers of justice had to be clear-headed.

Mugs in hand, they wandered into the Christmas room where Clarissa was comfortably enfolded in generous, fuzzy arms.

Patrick took in this picture of serenity and put a quick end to the honeymoon. He dropped down and threw himself over sister and bear. Clarissa began wailing, and Mah intervene immediately.

“Patrick, that bear is Santa’s present to Clarissa!”

“There. Is. No. Santa. Mah --it was you and Dah. I’m not stoooopid.” Grimace.

“Whatever, get off of your sister”. Who had bonded with the toy, thumb firmly in mouth. “Boo Boo” she said, temporarily removing her thumb “Boo Boo”.

Patrick hated Clarissa. All sweetness and innocence. He got up and returned to the train set, setting up the interlocking tracks and plotting a big bomb scare that would be handled by a package full of red plastic rescue figures. 

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BooBoo Bear moved into Clarissa’s bed, where he was alternately hugged and ignored, used as a reading cushion, and when she turned fifteen banished to a corner by the crafts chest, where BooBoo stayed through high-school. He moved to the top of her closet for the college years. 

After graduation Clarissa had set up a ten-month trip to India to work in a Bombay orphanage. She considered packing up BooBoo as a gift for the orphanage children. Cuddly gift, a symbol sweetness and hope…. but no, he’d fall apart for sure…..So BooBoo never did make the journey. Clarissa moved him to the attic, seating him ceremoniously on a broken peacock chair. “You’ll be fine, old guy!’ she said as she hoisted the old Samsonite for the trip and headed down the stairs towards India.

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Patrick needed a backpack from the collection in the attic for the Trek.

He bumped against the peacock chair, making BooBoo heave to one side and get stuck at an odd angle, leaning on his right scruffy arm. “Sorry old bear, I should’ve watched out”. He sat BooBoo back up, thought for a moment and wedged a cotton tablecloth behind and around the midriff.  “You need support old guy”. A bit of white stuffing emerged from the armpit--undignified, thought Patrick, who had toked up earlier. The way of all flesh, the way of all fur, all matter…… death. Decay, compost, recycle, return.  Is non-dead matter dead or simply inanimate? Is what dies dead matter and does it matter? Dead matters. Dead. Matters. People in India dying, his sister on a rescue mission……..he grabbed  BooBoo: “Return to civilization!”.

He sat BooBoo on top the bureau of his old room. Nope, ridiculous. Then shifted the bear to the foot of his bed, where Patrick would sleep for three days before the trek. The brown wool smile was not as distinct as it had been and the green ribbon was shredded. Her bear, things always went her way. Why was she away so damn long? Do-gooding wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Stupid woman. Damn damn damn!! He missed her. 

Mah walked in “Where are you in your packing? Ah! So you’re adopting BooBoo late in life? After all these years? How very sweet!.” Patrick hoped his blush was hidden by his thin blonde beard. He was ashamed at how he had bullied his sister for years, pushing away her efforts to win him over. She did have her sense of entitlement, however, true enough. And how she lorded it over him.

“Just taking care of BooBoo while Clarissa does her Mother Theresa act. Anyway I’ll be away, so you can take care of your empty nest in peace. You can give him, sorry it, a new ribbon or dust him or whatever. And I still think I deserved BooBoo.”

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Mah and Dah had thought the stuffed bear was adorable, sitting on the front counter of Toy World in mid-December. So they’d bought it. For one of the kids. Did it really matter which?

At 1 am. on Christmas day they had tossed a coin – heads Patrick and tails Clarissa, she recalled. When it turned up tails, Mah insisted it was Clarissa but Dah said no, it was tails for Patrick. They had argued over it for another hour as they wrapped and ribboned until they were exhausted. It would all be sorted out in the morning.

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Alexa Intrator

lexieintrator@gmail.com

September 27^th 2024