I have a lot of memories of my childhood stuffed animal Monkey. It’s only natural considering I’ve had him since I was a year old. I was a very dramatic and forgetful child and would get in trouble a lot. Whether it was just getting yelled at or sent to my room after doing something bad, I went to Monkey. Monkey was my only comfort; while my siblings were outside playing, I was hanging out with Monkey. I would take Monkey with me everywhere; anywhere I was, he was with me. Having a stuffed animal be your best friend isn’t the worst thing, but it’s also not the best. I mean a stuffed animal can only do so much, it can’t play with you unless you have a tea party. Growing out of that phase was sad, I wanted to hang out with Monkey but couldn’t because I thought I was getting too old, being in 3rd grade. I was only seven, but I wanted to be cool, and when that ¨coolness¨ came in, Monkey went out. After some time passed, I went back to Monkey, I mean who wouldn’t? I was often compared to various family members because of my attachment to Monkey. It’s an unspoken tradition in my family that every kid gets something when they’re young. I’ve left Monkey behind since then, he’s retired to my shelf since I no longer need him with me all the time. I still go to him sometimes when I'm not doing too great, but I think we’re both content.