Last fall when mom was recovering from knee replacement surgery, she was inseparable from her "little guys."

She couldn't decide which one she loved more, and every day was a new exercise - what to name them. The little brown guy will always be "Georgie" to me, but these days she's not that keen on him, and keeps trying to give him away. The little blond one? She is convinced at times that there really is "someone in there, - he's so REAL. It's like he's really listening!" She guards him fiercely. I like to think she remembers on some mysterious level that I sent him to her years and years ago after a particularly hard stretch for her. Somehow, given all the things she's "gotten organized" (thrown away) - he has remained at her side.

She finds creative ways for him to keep watch.

Each morning when I see her, "jimmy" or "francais" or "toots" will be straddling the hospital bed bars another way. I always have to run for the camera.

I swear, I did NOT set up these shots. Poor "Jonny boy" was having some kind of time out I guess.

The comfort is real. She can be having a  terrible terrible time; Anger, Tears;  "I'M NEVER COMING BACK TO THIS PLACE AGAIN!!!"  And you can hand her "Blup blup" and she will melt.
If all else fails, singing the 'Cream of Wheat" jingle usually turns things right around.