The Cult of the Pillow Pet

3 01 2011

In September, Big G got a Pillow Pet for his birthday. The Pillow Pet became a much-prized possession in our home, and oh, how Little G wanted one. I tried substituting a cuddly stuffed animal, but that wouldn’t do. Obviously that was nothing like a pillow, and Little G was far too clever to be fooled by such trickery.

Fortunately, Little G isn’t just clever…he’s creative. He wanted a Pillow Pet. He needed a Pillow Pet. Thus…he found himself a Pillow Pet:


It's a's a... Oh, wait. That's all. Just a pillow.


Yeah. He lugs his pillow around everywhere, saying, “Pi-ow Pe!”

It’s ridiculously cute.

Fast forward to Christmas. Grandma and Grandpa bought him a REAL Pillow Pet of his very own. Oh, the excitement! The thrill! The…complete disinterest. Naptime rolled around Christmas afternoon and I asked if he wanted to get his Pillow Pet and lay down with mommy. “Yeah!” He hopped down from the couch, grabbed the green checked pillow, and headed for my bedroom. As of this writing, he sleeps with the actual Pillow Pet in his bed, but still hauls the pillow around the house with him, calling it his pillow pet.

Big G is unimpressed by this turn of events. He loves his Pillow Pet, and doesn’t understand why Little G isn’t equally enchanted by his new acquisition. To this end, he has dedicated himself to teaching his brother the ways of the Pillow Pet.

I walk in the room and find Little G with the Pillow Pet next to him on the couch. “Oh,” I say, “Did he bring that in with him?”

“No,” says Big G, “I put it there.”

The next evening I walk into their bedroom and the Pillow Pet is on Little G’s bed. “He brought it to bed with him? How sweet!”

“No, I brought it for him,” says Big G.

None of this strikes me as particularly odd until the day I walk into the living room to find Big G whispering to Little G, Pillow Pets surrounding them.

As I step closer, the repeated words become clear: “It’s a pillow. It’s a pet. It’s a Pillow Pet!”

That’s right, my friends. The indoctrination has begun. I think it’s harmless, but if Big G starts asking for Kool-Aid? I’m calling the child psychologist.




7 responses

19 03 2011
I Know Where I Stand « Like Swimming

[…] left out (after all, I was a whole seven feet away from him) and meandered over. He plopped his not-really-a-pillow-pet next to me and snuggled into me. The tension of the day left his body as he exhaled a big […]

11 02 2011
Plausible Deniability « Like Swimming

[…] As part of our nightly bedtime routine, when we’ve finished scriptures, prayer, and bedtime stories, the kids hop onto the ottoman and I swing them into the next room. They’re always loaded up with paraphenalia—Big G has his Pillow Pet, Lightning McQueen blanket, and assorted other treasures (on any given night these can include sheets of Care Bears stickers, an origami star, coins, or candles) and Little G has his pillow (pet). […]

7 01 2011

Love it!

4 01 2011

The green-checked thing is hysterical all by itself!

4 01 2011
Mama P

Oh my goodness, that is so funny, those darn pillow pets! We’ve got 2 of them, and when one of them started making noise, because ours make noise.. my youngest son thought something was coming to get him so he ran screaming from the room, not quite as funny as the indoctrination of the pillow pet though!

4 01 2011

I don’t know, a malevolent pillow pet is pretty fantastic, too!

4 01 2011

That is super hilarious!! 😀 I wish to witness this hilarity!

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