Suicidal lovey

My folks leave tomorrow. I am very thankful that they were here to help with the craziness of Layla's crotch rot and Evie refusing the bottle while I was at work. But it will also be nice to have the next week with just the four of us.

We went to the zoo today. I love our zoo. Layla loves our zoo. And the zoo is the site of the birth of Layla's lovey. Her addiction. Her most favoritist thing in the world. Her polar bear. Her disgusting, nose less (cause she ate it), balding (cause she plucks it) yellowing (cause she sucks on it), disintegrating polar bear. It's slowly dying and before it completely falls apart, we needed to find a replacement. While, being from the zoo, they didn't exactly carry a huge stock of them. And they've been out. Up until today.

So now we have a replacement bear, but what do you do with it? I mean, if I snuck it to her and tried to trick her that it was hers, and it worked, I'd take her in for some testing. If we waited until her old one dies completely, she may very well reject the new one. Ugh, why is this shit so complicated? It's not like we have a pile of polar bears stashed away that she has had forever and refuses to play with. Um, yeah. My mom came up with a good idea to try. Give it as a reward for going doo doo on the toilet.

Well, she did. And we did. And she was confused at first. Initially we got "mr. polar bear is clean" "mr. polar bear is dry" "mr. polar bear.....has a nose"? Anyway, so she knows it isn't her old bear, but she hasn't touched her old bear since she's been given the new one. His old, nasty ass is sitting, sadly abandoned, in the other room. I think I heard him sniffle when she walked past him, with the replacement, taking him to bed with her.