My little boy's precious blue bunny is missing and I am traumatised.

Not only does our son have fluid leaking out of his ear with yet another ear infection (one of dozens he has experienced in his little life) but he doesn't have his trusty companion, his source of comfort, the one thing he asks for every time he bumps his head, falls over, or feels upset.

Bunny was a present from my sister after he was born almost three years ago. He (because Bunny has a gender) quickly became the thing my son asked for before we went anywhere.

Bunny has been there for everything.

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The day our boy went to hospital and got grommets and had his adenoids removed, Bunny was there to make him feel better.

There was the day we drove over from our home in Tauranga, to the Mount, as we do often and our son was having a hard time - again with ear infections - and he threw Bunny out the car window without us noticing.

I back-tracked on foot and found Bunny lying in a gutter, no longer needing to execute the social media campaign I was mentally preparing as I searched. He didn't want to let Bunny go after that.

Another day, my husband removed Bunny until our boy apologised to his older sister for hitting her, something he refused to do until the threat of Bunny being removed motivated him.

As he stood holding his little arm up to the top of the fridge where Bunny was, my son said in the saddest voice you have ever heard:

"But I want Bunny back, he wewy (very) pwecious (precious) me."

The infamous bunny. Photo / Supplied
The infamous bunny. Photo / Supplied

I thought my heart would never be the same after hearing his little voice say that. Even if he was being a complete s***.

And there was the day I watched from a distance at the kids' daycare field trip and overheard my daughter (then four) tell her teacher that another kid had put Bunny in the public rubbish bin.

I wanted to pin that kid against a wall by his throat and tell him exactly what I would like to do to him if he ever touched my sweet, gentle boy's bunny ever again.

But, I walked away after I saw the teacher had retrieved Bunny from the bin unharmed.

Bunny is a serial lost toy. I tried to source a back-up Bunny in preparation for this inevitable day, but it wasn't to be.

I have spent so many hours looking for "That Bloody Bunny" (as I refer to him), become furious countless times for having to rush back upstairs from the car when we were already late, and spent far too much time disgusted as I consider how dirty Bunny is and what kind of germs he may be carrying.

And now, ridiculously, it appears I am grieving for this little blue cuddly purely because it is the most important thing in the world to one of my most important things.

Bunny better show up.

And if he comes to any harm, I will be out for blood.

*Note: That Bloody Bunny did show up again and we got him the next day, he had been placed high up on a shelf at daycare. Phew.