I’ve been invaded.
Ever since Christmas Eve, an alien has latched onto my daughter — and now it’s latching on to me.
It’s ensnared the entire family with its black beady eyes, cute smiling grin and innocent white marshmallow-fluff-like shape.
Eryn can’t go anywhere or do anything without it. This new family addition has become her best friend and she shares simply everything with it. Everything.
Every night Eryn insists that I nurse Adipose. And I willingly oblige because nursing is a part of our nightly sleep routine (though now I wonder if this is acclimatising her to tandem nursing. Hrmm). I’ve nursed Eryn to sleep since she was born simply because it was easier for us. Bouncing, rocking, singing and stories would see her up every hour on the hour — for another round of bouncing, rocking, singing and stories. But if I nursed her to sleep, I was guaranteed at least 8 hours without interruption.
Of course she’ll sleep in the car, the sling and with my mom’s special touch of “just putting her to bed.” But at home, with me around, she needs “num-nyah” to sleep.
I was initially surprised at her obsession with the Adipose, because while she knows to call dust floating in a sunbeam “Vashta Nerada” and enjoys playing with our sonic screwdriver — she’s either complacent or terrified of my other Doctor Who action figures. And she’s never actually seen the episode in which the Adipose appear.
Her first encounter with this character was when leafing through my book Secrets of the TARDIS. Something drew her instantly to the little blob of fat and all she spoke about for days was, “Adipose this” and “Adipose that.” She even made up a cute noise to answer, “what does Adipose say?” and started calling Adipose on her play mobile.
So I did what any
brainwashing responsible parent did. I bought her an Adipose toy action figure.
And I’m so thrilled! I’ve tried so many different types of “lovelies” for her to fall in love with — just so I could … you know, send her off to sleep and sneak away to do more adulty-type-things without worrying that she’ll wake up without me there.
We have a purple monkey, the softest teddy bear imaginable, Eeyore, a giraffe, two baby dolls, a polar bear, hippos, elephants, fuzzy blankets — nothing was good enough to replace me. Until now.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because Adipose has its own music video (CAUTION: it’s to the Hamster Dance. You’ve been warned), or because it’s nice and firm, or because it’s a seriously simple design — but there is something about this little alien that Eryn just adores.
And my heart swells with pride on so many levels each time she wakes up at 3am to ask, “Where’s Adipose?” — and immediately falls fast asleep without me.