I have always thought those fake babies given to young teenagers in the UK to put them off pregnancy were a great idea, writes Róisín Ingle.
What generally happened was the teenager would take the baby home and after a couple of days get utterly fed up waking through the night to feed and change the baby. It provided a real taste of parental responsibility and made them think twice about whether they really wanted a baby in their young lives.
I was given a cuddly toy recently. And alright, so it doesn't wake up in the night with a soggy backside (thank the cuddly toy Lord) but we've found looking after it an onerous responsibility all the same. The person who gave it to us is one of those adults who still has soft toys inhabiting her bed. She has names for them. They have personalities. I think you'll understand when I tell you that one of them, the lovely Wendy, was a bridesmaid at her wedding.
We, meanwhile, were never a cuddly toy sort of family. I don't remember one soft character in our house, except the ones we brought back from Funderland, which never lasted long. We didn't have blankies or any of those comforting items that are trailed around by small children and smell faintly of egg sandwiches.
The closest I have come to the phenomenon is watching my fairy godchild Hannah, who shares her bed with Duck. He appears to have healing properties because when her nanny broke her arm she let Duck sit beside her. She's generous like that.
Anyway, my very first cuddly toy will be known to readers as the ITV monkey. It is a knitted creature that was used to advertise a new digital television service a couple of years ago. The service was soon defunct, but the monkey, known to fans simply as Monkeh, became a cult hit adorning offices (even The Office) all over the UK. He has long arms and a kind of sock puppet mouth. There are patterns on the Internet showing you how to knit your own Monkeh, should you be interested in that kind of thing.
Our Monkeh is the seventh such toy my friend has liberated from the Gadget Shop, where she has become known affectionately as The Monkeh Lady (TML). She matches Monkehs up to their intended owners according to their personality. Our Monkeh, for example, is tougher and more independent than most. He has to be, reasoned my friend, because apart from the boyfriend's brief childhood fling with an overgrown Rupert Bear, we are just not used to looking after toys.
The main point of Monkeh, say both TML and the others who have received one from her, is that the more love he is given, the more he returns. But for us, fostering a cuddly toy feels quite strange. I'm just not convinced that hugging inanimate objects - if not encouraged at an early age - is something you can come to in later life. But I am trying, and so far Monkeh hasn't attempted escape. Sometimes, though, I look at him and he gives me this neglected look, which makes me feel terribly guilty.
Equally unsure of how to behave with a knitted monkey, the boyfriend started to do laddish things with it, such as making Monkeh scratch a rude itch. When I told my friend about this, she was appalled, and sent us some guidelines which are so, er, unique I feel they should be shared.
1. The Monkeh must be placed in a room were the Monkeh owner/owners spend a lot of time, i.e. bedroom or living room. This is to ensure that the Monkeh is involved in their everyday lives.
2. The Monkeh must be hugged AT LEAST ONCE A DAY by Monkeh owner/owners.
3. The Monkeh will not be brought to places where he may be lost or subjected to Monkeh abuse - verbal or otherwise. Not everyone understands how important it is to treat a Monkeh with the respect he so rightly deserves, hence the strict selection process and guidelines. Visits to pool halls and discos are strictly forbidden.
4. The Monkeh is a civilised member of our community. He is not like his wilder relatives, gibbon and human, and therefore does not scratch/rub his rude bits. Head and feet scratching allowed.
You get the picture. Thing is, the boyfriend's involvement is now limited to manoeuvring Monkeh into various yoga postures, while I recently went a whole day without hugging him (the Monkeh, not my boyfriend) and didn't even notice. We seem to lack the imagination required to look after Monkeh according to the guidelines.
This makes me sad. And it could be my under-developed imagination, but Monkeh doesn't look as happy as he did when he first arrived. It's as though he knows his stay has provided us with a real taste of parental responsibility. And that he's made us think twice about whether we really want a baby, I mean a cuddly toy, in our youngish lives.