My Attempt at a Stuffed Animal

Sometimes I get a wild hair to sew something "creative"...meaning, without a pattern.  I get this sudden burst of energy (and confidence), and think I can make anything in just a few minutes.  Ha.  A few weeks ago, this wild hair resulted in a stuffed animal...a wild hare, if you will.  Bu-dum-chhhhh!

Really, it's a dog.  But everyone else sees it as a rabbit, so I've come to terms with this reality.  I made a floppy-eared pink rabbit.  My mom had a thing for stuffed rabbits when I was a kid.  We always had a few of them sitting around the living room, in their prairie dresses.  Some of them were lucky enough to be sitting on their very own bunny-sized bench or wagon.  And here I am as an adult, sewing my own bunny. Everything comes full circle, I guess.

Making the rabbit was fun--at first.  But then I figured out I was doing it all backwards, which resulted in me hand sewing (ew!) all of its appendages on.  By the end of this endeavor, I was muttering mean things under my breath towards the bunny.  But I was pleased enough, and learned how to make a proper stuffed animal for the next time around (which, let's be honest, probably won't happen for a LOOONG time).

I knew I wouldn't be sewing a prairie dress for my bunny and sitting it on the mantle in the living room (although I'm sure my husband would have loved this), so I decided to give it away as a gift.  Luckily, I have a 9-year-old sister.  With much anticipation and excitement, I handed her my bunny, complete with blood, sweat and tears.  Her giggly reaction: "Uh....what is it?"  "A dog," I told her.  "No it's not.  It's a rabbit.  And its arms are crooked!"  Hmm...not the reaction I was hoping for.  But it makes sense.  She had a similar reaction to the last thing I made her: a nightgown...ahem...muumuu.

Patterns aren't always a bad thing, it turns out.  But I am secretly proud; I recently found the pink bunny amongst Karli's other prized stuffed animals on the bookshelf in her room.  It was the only one that was homemade.  And, since the stuffed bunny thing is apparently genetic, I know she really loves it deep down inside.