When I was an infant, my favourite toy was a pink plastic bunny. It says so right in my baby book. When I read this recently, after not having seen this book for many years, it occured to me that pink bunnies were very important to me in my life, once upon a time. How so, exactly?

When I was two years old, as the story goes, (and this story has been told often in my family), I had to go in for surgery on one of my eyes. It was apparently most traumatic for me, and my mother's face looks shocked even still, when she re-tells how I kicked and screamed and cried and refused to succumb, even after receiving twice the normal dose of sedative prior to the operation. My mother felt so guilty at leaving me in such a frenzied, disturbingly doped-up state that she promised herself to make it up to me somehow. So the next day when she collected me, and I was sporting for the first time ever, what I proudly proclaimed to be "pretties," we made a stop at the drugstore, and I was told I could pick whatever my heart desired. So what did I choose? Above all other things? A pink bunny. This time, PLUSH (yeaaah).

It's a little bit facinating to me, i do have to admit. Did I pick this bunny merely because it resembled the plastic toy I had already owned, or did I pick it because of something it represented to me? Comfort? Fun? Security? Companionship? Or did pink bunnies simply just appeal to me by virtue of the fact that they were PINK, and that they were cute BUNNIES? (Dr. Melfi would know -- I'm sure of it).

At any rate, because I decided that the purpose of this blog is to celebrate the things that are near and dear to me; that inspire me, bring me happiness, calm, and all-around warm fuzzy feelings, I felt I should honour that which first appealed to my senses, before all other things - the very first "archetypal" object (?) to imprint itself upon me: a pink bunny.

So there.