Peter

If Peter wore diapers, Birdie would blaze a trail home from Arkansas simply to stuff his supply in the toilet. She isn't taking well to the notion of being a "middle child" and has heard many times about how Daisy stuffed Birdie's diapers--as well as her own diapers--in the toilet when Birdie joined the family.

Plastic rabbit Peter stands about 4 inches tall. He has a snarky grin, Birdie should recognize as similar to her own. His head falls off a lot as his ears are too big. What's best about Peter: He drops candy out of his rear-end--something neither girl ever did in a recognizable form.

With Daisy at Mizzou and Birdie at Arkansas, Big Guy and I left for our first extended vacation in 21 years without the girls. As we pulled out the driveway, camper in tow, empty-nest syndrome hit hard. I raced back in the house and picked up Peter.

Turns out Peter is the perfect child. In the minivan (yes, I still have one), Peter rides upside down in the cup holder of the front passenger door. If he rode right side up, his head would fall off, hit the pavement in some anonymous grocery store parking lot only to be crushed by a tire. It's true--a headless Peter would have candy coming out both ends. But, quite frankly, Big Guy and I get enough odd looks carrying Peter around with his head attached.

Peter never has to make a potty-stop; so he won't be a co-writer on the family memoir: Potties of America, Flush, No Flush and Distinctly Tree-like. I've had enough help from the Girls getting that pup written.

And Peter is really cheap to feed.  Anything he eats comes out the other end totally sweet and delicious. Again, neither Daisy nor Birdie ever reached that height of recycling.

Daisy, being two years older than Birdie, has taken the high road when it comes to Peter. She ignores him. As long as Peter stays out of her stuff and she isn't asked to babysit, she won't focus the wrath of Daisy on him or on her parents. I think.

Birdie didn't like Peter accompanying Big Guy and I on vacation to Glacier National Park, the Badlands of North Dakota and points in between. We blew a tire on Montana's Beartooth Highway, she texted to plug it with Peter. A rodent in Glacier National Park stole Peter's head; her text cheered for the rodent. A donkey in a bar in Sturgis, SD, wrenched Peter's body free from his head, Birdie texted "Good donkey."

Now Peter is home; we're home. As Birdie feared, Peter gets her room to make his own. At the moment, he is wiping road tar and creature spit all over the bed. But eventually, he will go back to shooting candy out his butt--a talent that makes him a child worth keeping.