His First Lovey

His very first
attachment object –
or so he was told by daddy
dearest – that he took to bed with
him each night, that he would sooth and
comfort himself to sleep with from infancy and
toddlerhood on, from before conscious memories could
form in his tiny head, his very first lovey was not his pacifier or
rubber ducky or action figure or Raggedy Ann or babydoll or teddy bear
or stuffed animal or security blankie or silky soft pillow or mommy’s
nightgown which he could infuse with the comforting softness
and smell of mommy as he lay down to sleep. No. The
very first object with which he formed a primal
bond to stand in the gap during mommy’s
brief bedtime absence: Plyers.
A pair of plyers. Cold, hard
metal plyers. His first
lovey. Because
of course.