He was my favourite toy in the world because he was so big and fluffy, and he had what I thought, was the most beautiful blue bow placed on his chubby neck.
I named him Mr. Teddy. Simple, of course. Although I was gifted with it at birth, I only gathered enough intelligence at three.
His black beady eyes would always stare into his empty pink plastic tea cup. I used to sit for hours pouring invisible tea into our cups, sharing secrets intently as if he were my best friend.
One of my favourite memories of him was when I went over to my grandparent’s house and we (ALL) fell asleep watching CSI. I suddenly woke up after my Didi instructed me to go and get some tissue. I rose from my slumber and warily grabbed Mr. Teddy and switched on the corridor light. Nothing. My eyes widened in the pitch black and squeezed Mr. Teddy even tighter. I quickly sprinted down to the bathroom, retrieved the tissues and almost tripped because of a loud high pitched squeak. I laughed and picked Mr . Teddy up..
Well actually, I guess he was my best friend at the time. Which I don’t find surprising because my dad said I was a very shy child until I turned nine.
Mr. Teddy made me feel happy all the time. He was always there smiling at me and making me feel better.