Critters on the Couch
Stuffed friends are the best friends
“Okay, everybody. On the count of three,” I say, carrying an ice cream cake with a turtle topper into the dining room. “One… two… three.”
My parents, my partner, and I break into “Happy Birthday” as I set the cake down in front of our guest of honor: Timmy, my very grumpy and much beloved stuffed turtle. His other friends surround him, too, everyone decked out in party hats. After we sing, I help him blow out the “1” candle topping the cake. Then we clap and present him with his presents, a personalized wooden train and a fun button down shirt.
If you’re going back up to make sure you read correctly, let me confirm that four adults did indeed throw a party for a plushie. We buy them gifts at Christmas, fix them snacks, and take them on adventures. I’ve started running an Instagram account to share their fun with the world, as well (go follow @crittersonthecouch).
I’ve always had a special relationship with my critters. My first two were Peter Rabbit and Arthur. I brought them everywhere growing up, whether it was a trip to the doctor or a trip to Disney World. As an only child who struggled to make friends, my cuddly toys filled the social void. They were always there for me in the way people sadly weren’t. I continued leaning on this comfort as I grew up. Arthur came with me to college and even got to meet his creator, Marc Brown. Timmy’s cousin—Purse Timmy—is a regular at my office.
The roster has grown exponentially over the years and with each plushie comes a unique personality. Bernard is a groundhog who likes watching Love It or List It and indulging in grapes. Ricky Rain Frog loves a good day at the beach with an ice lolly, singing oldies. Grover bear adores tea and biscuits and books. Collectively, they’re known as the Critters on the Couch, as they often take up residence there at my parents’ house.
Many of my stuffies I’ve found through Jellycat, a twenty-five year-old British brand that rose in popularity during the pandemic. This is largely due to their social media presence. Others I’ve picked up on travels. Fortnum, for example, is a tiny corgi with a stutter and a bacon obsession I spotted at the Buckingham Palace gift shop. My partner brought me back Diana Doughnut Turtle (Timmy’s half doughnut, half turtle girlfriend) from Berlin. They are a very eclectic cast.
This interest might sound strange, but trust that I’m hardly the only adult who hasn’t given up her stuffed animals. A brief look at the #jellysnaps tag on Instagram will show you this much. Researchers have also delved into the topic. Surveys found that four in ten American adults sleep with a stuffie, and the “kidult” toy market—consumers over the age of twelve—accounts for $9 billion. This was about 24% of sales in 2022. Some of this has been chalked up to the stress from Covid, that adults wanted to return to a simpler time in their lives when less was going on. Playing with toys was the easiest, fastest way to get there.
The pandemic drove people to sleep with plushies, too, again in desperate pursuit of soothing. Stuffed animals are seen as transitional objects for children, a psychological term given to an item that provides comfort during anxious times. But this same logic can apply to adults. Cuddling a toy helps your brain decompress and sends your body signals that it’s time for bed. This is thought to be the single most important thing needed for a good night’s rest. Sharing your bed with a stuffie is proven to be better for sleep than a person or pet, too, much to my partner’s dismay when he wakes up next to pissy Timmy asking to be booped.
Companies have responded to the demand accordingly. Build-a-Bear launched an “after dark” line of adult humor items for plushies, and Squishmallows have wracked up billions of views on Tik Tok from celebrity shares. Non-soft toy markets have also capitalized. See the plethora of adult Lego sets or the fact the American Girl cafe started serving alcohol. And don’t get me started on all the superhero stuff available.
I’ve definitely contributed to this marketplace. Arthur and Timmy and their friends have a fair amount of clothes and stuff to keep them as comfortable as they keep me. However, their world gives me something else unique: an easy, safe outlet for my boundless creative energy.
I’m writing a novel. Or, I’m supposed to be writing a novel. Mostly, I’m going to work and crying and feeling physically bad, all of which makes me angry that I often run out of energy to write, especially during the week. But there is rarely a day that everything is so bad I don’t want to engage the plushies in a conversation. Maybe it’s as simple as baking a batch of cookies with Arthur, or watching the Rangers game with Grover. Maybe it’s helping them write a wishlist to Santa, aka my mom. Maybe it’s doing a photoshoot of Timmy and laughing at his grumpy face pretending to get in the bath. It doesn’t really matter. It flexes the muscle I like best. And that does wonders for my serotonin.
As I write this, I’m sitting with Murray (a chubby corgi) and Kip (a sweater-adored sausage dog) on the couch, and I feel exponentially better than I did before I brought them over. Their furry bottoms lift a weight off my chest. I also find plushie time to be great motivation. I managed not to cry for thirty days and as a reward my partner purchased me Theo Turkey, a fluffy bird in a beanie. I love him, but I’m worried about the day I have to tell him about what we eat on Thanksgiving.
My critters have become a part of me, one that I like more than most others. They bring me sunshine on cloudy days and deep breaths when I fear I might pass out. They always make me happy. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Rachel’s Weekly Recs:
I’ve been unwinding at night lately with a game of Tiles in the New York Times Games app. It’s not the high stakes of Wordle or the Crossword, but there is something very satisfying in clearing the board.
If you’re in the mood for a slightly spooky read, Ashley Poston’s The Seven Year Slip hits the spot. A book publicist falls for an adorable chef, only to find out he lives seven years in the past. With beautiful descriptions of grief, food, and love, this is definitely one not to miss.
A delicious, adult treat to celebrate Halloween can be found in these Candy Corn Jello shots. Featuring layers of vodka and rum gooeyness, they will add a buzz to any party. But beware, their bite is stronger than it seems. Be sure to boo-ze responsibly!
The Critters on the Couch are a lovely, lively and lovable bunch! (And the cake was quite good as well)☺️🥰
As a child because I was convinced my stuffies had whole parties and bashes when I was asleep and so I would rotate their arrangement so that cliques wouldn't form.