Why Mom Hated One of My Plush Toys

Remembering a plush toy that mom refused to let me keep as a child.

Soft Toys Display (Media from Wix)

Was there a childhood toy you adored but "lost"? Do you remember how you "lost" it? Well, I once had a plush ant that I adored, but mom got rid of it. Was her reason justified? You be the judge of that.

In case it's helpful, below are the main points covered in this post:

• My Plush Ant

• Mom Hated the Toy

• Guardian of Evil

• Lost, but not Forgotten

• What's Next?

My Plush Ant

I wanted to start by stating that I am not bitter about losing my plush ant. Yes, losing him bummed me out as a child. However, I hated the things mom said about me and him.

So... How did I get my plush ant?

I won him at a carnival when I was a young child. I do not know how old I was, but I do remember winning a carnival game all by myself for the first time.

When asked which plush I wanted, I chose the black ant with wide eyes, large embroidered smile, and red and white sneakers on each foot! I never had an ant toy, so I was excited to finally add this animal to my plush collection.

When asked what I wanted to name it, I said "Damien."

I overheard the name said in some movie mom and other relatives watched one night. I was not allowed to watch, but I heard the audio in the other room.

I loved the name! I never heard of the name before. Damien. To me, the name was as unique and rare as my plush ant.

Damien was not my favorite plush toy, but he was one that stayed by my side constantly because of mom.

Mom Hated the Toy

Mom did not like Damien from the moment she saw him. She rambled about how he was evil because he was all black. I argued that he had a friendly smile and bright red and white sneakers. She insisted that black was evil.

For background, I am mixed race. Mom is Filipina and dad is black. I look a lot like my dad, but with a slightly lighter skin color. Mom telling me that "black was evil" sounded a lot like her saying all black people were evil.

I felt devastated. It sounded like mom said I was evil.

If you have not read any of my past posts, then you should know that mom believes her "black was evil" statement.

I learned as an adult that mom does believe most black people are horrible human beings. Mom urges me to lighten my skin with bleach or through surgery. Last year, she repeatedly insisted that I deserved to "go to hell" because I brought up a name (affair partner) during a discussion about why she sent child me away for some summers.

But, I digress...

Dad interrupted to say that there was nothing wrong with my black ant. They yelled about it before mom withdrew from the argument.

After some silence, mom asked what I named my plush ant.

Mom was furious when she heard that I named him Damien. She asked where I heard such an evil name. I explained that I heard it on the TV and fell in love with it.

She demanded that I changed his name. She yelled about how it was the devil's name. I did not know that. Nobody told me the devil's name before. I thought the devil was nameless before that day!

Mom and dad argued again about the name and color of my plush ant. Mom argued that dad was allowing me to bring evil into our home. Dad argued that it was a meaningless name for a child's toy.

I tuned them out, but I heard when mom promised that she would get rid of the devil when I was not looking.

Guardian of Evil

Damien was not a favorite plush toy, but he was the one I was most protective of. I literally held him close for months.

I hugged and slept with him at night. I brought him with me to the bathroom and covered his eyes with a towel every time I had to go or bathe.

I took him to school and left him at the bottom of my black backpack. I hid him inside my shirt so he was with me when I ate my meals at home because mom never wanted to see him.

I vaguely recall walking into the bedroom one day to catch mom going through my plush toys. I stood there for what felt like several minutes before she noticed me.

She asked where the devil was. I told her she would never find him. She complained about me being a disobedient daughter to keep evil in our home.

I felt like the guardian of a friendly evil spirit. However, I never actually believed he was evil. He happened to be a black ant with a name I liked at the time.

Lost, but not Forgotten

One morning, I woke up to find that Damien was not in my arms. I searched the room for him. I searched all the rooms for him.

I saw mom at the dining table drinking her coffee and smoking her cigarette with a huge grin on her face. I asked her where he was. She told me that he was gone. I realized that she took him in the middle of the night.

I started to go through the trash can. Mom said it was no use. She shredded and cut him up before taking somewhere else to throw him away. I would never find him. Evil was gone.

I felt like a failure. I failed to protect him. I failed to keep him close. I failed to be a good caretaker.

Dad consoled me. He reassured me that I did nothing wrong. He said that I did everything in my power to keep my toy safe.

Eventually, I convinced my young self that Damien was just a toy. Mom often got rid of my toys, so it was inevitable that he would go, too. I at least got to keep him for as long as I did.

Still, I never forgot about him decades later because of mom's determination to get rid of him. I still do not completely understand her reasoning to this day.

Did mom not realize that The Omen was a work of fiction? Did she genuinely believe the devil lived in that toy because it was black and I refused to rename it?

What's Next?

It felt good to share this story and get my feelings off my chest.

Comment below to share the story of your lost toy!

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Thanks, and have a great day!

~Simply Jelly Jam