And let there be no doubt: you are Tommy's favorite toy. You beat out the other competition by about a million.
Tommy loves you. He loves you hard.
Your tail is your best feature, in Tommy's eyes. Me? I'm partial to your cute face and looooong limbs. But about that tail...I feel like I have to apologize that it ends up in Tommy's mouth so frequently.
As gross as your tail becomes, I have to admit that it's pretty cute how tightly he grabs onto it, though. With a viselike grip he clutches on, and it's hard to break his hold on that beloved tail when I'm trying to get him in his jammies.
I do what I can to keep you clean; I throw you in the washing machine as often as I can. I know this makes your sweet colors fade, but that saliva-smelling tail of yours makes it absolutely necessary.
You taught my boy to love, Mr. Giraffe. He was born an anti-snuggler, and although he's still not what one might consider a "cuddly baby," he sure is more loving and willing to be snuggled than he was before he met you. For that, I am grateful.
And, Mr. Giraffey, Tommy doesn't fall asleep very well without you. Bedtime is rotten on the dastardly occasions that we forget to take you along on overnight trips or longer visits at Grandma O's.
You put my boy at ease, and for that, I love you.
But not nearly as much as Tommy does.
