Oh, Tom Kitten. You’re not an illustration I thought I’d see today. Or maybe ever again. Beatrix Potter, and all those (probably far grittier than I remember) children’s tales were a big part of the lovely escape from my mother’s overbearing…everything. I used to have a cutely styled Tom Kitten toy wearing his same blue outfit, and every time I’m in that gorram old house back home, I try to find him, cause I loved him and he was the absolute softest mofo, but he was lost and put away when mom decided I was suddenly not allowed stuffed animals to be seen out in the open or some shite. Though one evening buying Walmart wine, I discovered those god awfully popular Squishmallow toys feel similarly soft, and now a small toy corgi named Reginald is an apt substitute for necessary comfort. Thanks for the memories, OP. What an odd rollercoaster for the evening. 😺 Uh…carry on, friends.