Meet BEAR. Let's just say he is loved. Branson carries him everywhere, and has to have him when he goes to bed. It's terrible when he's lost, and I've had to go pick him up from friends' houses a few times at bedtime. Branson either carries him in his mouth, by the bear's nose, or under his arm like a football. He is already starting to fall apart. He's got a bald patch on his bum and a hole where I had to cut out candy from his fur. His nose is always wet and nasty, and I have to wash him about three times a week. For some reason, Branson cannot get enough of this little guy.
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