Eat Your Eyes Out

Eat your eyes teddy


In 6 year-old Robert’s world, what happened to his beloved teddy bear was  catastrophic.  His nearly constant companion and sleepmate had been blinded by the family’s 90 lb. German shepherd puppy. Apollo had abducted Teddy and eaten his eyes out.


No eyes 2


Apollo’s attack on Teddy was not malicious.  To him, that bear was just another thing to chew. But to my grandson, this was very upsetting.


MEold bear


Academically, Robert seems older than 6.  He reads at 4th grade level, knows the multiplication tables, studies Latin and can do short division in his head.  But emotionally he is just a thumb sucking 6 year-old who loves his scruffy bear.



Of course, there was nothing to be done about Apollo but to forgive him.  He is a puppy, after all, and he adores Robert and Laurel.  He even attends homeschool with them….


Apollo school



until he misbehaves like the puppy he is.  Then he is banished from the classroom.


Apollo was determined to be a presence in the classroom, even with these extensive efforts at keeping him out. I guess the dunce cap wouldn’t stay on.


Still, he wants to learn and be with his kids!  But back to Teddy.

Robert brought his bear to me, with absolute faith that I could fix him.    And I did.




Sewing, you probably know, is not always creative.  It is not always fun.  And it is not always pretty.

Teddy’s injury and Robert’s faith in the restorative powers of Nana-wielded needle and thread reminded me of an incident that occurred when my son was a teenager.  His childhood friend Chris came for a swim, but before he dove in, he held out a pair of his jeans to me.

From crotch almost to the knees there were only vertical threads, like long guitar strings. The pockets were frayed, the waist band was frayed, the cuffs were frayed and the knees were thin.”These are my favorite jeans,” he sighed.

Chris had practically grown up in my kitchen.   As I looked up at this tall, handsome young man with his thick shock of dark brown hair and freckled nose,  I knew this was not a show-and-tell moment.

“My mom said these couldn’t be fixed.  But I told her that I bet Mrs. Ferguson could do it.  Will you?”   His big blue eyes were pleading with me and his voice was syrupy sweet.

So I cut scrap from some old jeans, sewed the patch to the inside of the pants and then stippled the patch and threads with free motion technique.

By the time the boys were out of the pool, the pants were wearable, but not exactly beautiful.   Chris dried off then asked were his jeans fixed yet.  He had been absolutely confidant that I could mend them and hugged me with appreciation.

Robert had that same confidence when he surrendered Teddy to me and tomorrow I expect a hug just like the one Chris gave me.

Again I say that sewing is not always creative.  It is not always beautiful.  It is not always fun.  But often it brings a kind of happiness when nothing else can.



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