Behold pink bunny and Snoopy, two of the comfort objects of my childhood.
Pink bunny was once much pinker and much whiter, with a soft fur all over. Now you can only find evidence of that fur within the folds of her ears. Her nose was felt I think, and left us years ago.
Snoopy, over the years, has lost an ear and various seams have burst open. At this point he might have more mends than original stitching. And while he's gotten quite dingy, I don't dare put him in the wash.
I am not Linus trailing his blanket. Mostly these comfort objects sit in our guest bedroom, more objects of nostalgia than anything else.
At the same time, I feel no need to take away someone's lovey. Indeed, why would we deny someone comfort? Perhaps we give the object some boundaries, but really, life is hard enough.