When I was young, I had a stuffed toy duck that was given to me as a present. He was dressed up as a farmer, with a hat, denim overalls and a plaid shirt. When you tapped on the button on the top of his farmers hat, he'd quack. If you pressed the button on his right hand (yes, I remember which hand) he would sing a song with his quacks. It took me a while, but I realised if you pressed the hat button at steady pace, you could play the song in individual quacks. Sometimes I played the song really fast, sometimes I did it rather slow. Just depended on my mood for the day. I took Mr Quakers with me everywhere. He was soft, sung to me and had these big plastic eyes that beamed happiness at me. I guess that's how I learnt what happiness looked like. When you're happy, you smile with your eyes. He showed me that. I cuddled him tightly whenever I was afraid of something, and I slept with him under my arm every night. He had a little zip up pocket on the back where the batteries went. I kept my favourite photo in there for when I got sad and lonely. It was of my mother, brother and I with our two puppies. My mother never knew I kept that photo with me 24/7. I guess I should have told her I loved her more often. Eventually I grew up but I never threw him out. I just couldn't. Then Francesca was born, and I felt like I wanted her to have him. To share the same happy memories with him as I did. I don't know if she likes him or prefers her Barbie dolls. Either way, I just wanted to share his love around. I wish I still had him. I miss Mr Quakers.