Charlotte's "hide-the-lovey" game stresses me out to no end. It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't HAVE to have that thing everywhere we go. But the minute it's time to leave the house, she shrieks, "vuvvy!" and of course has forgotten where she hid it. Last night we searched the house up and down and I finally had to bring out the back-up lovey. Hours later when Seth and I were getting ready for bed, he handed me a Winnie the Pooh puzzle box that was lying on our floor under a bunch of clothes. "Look in here," he said. And wouldn't you know it? That blasted lovey was stuffed inside, the lid neatly closed to conceal the secret.