This is my towel. There are six more like it, but this one is mine.
It is my plaything. Without me it is just a towel. Without my towel, I am a bunny wondering where my towel is.
It is where I binky. It is where I nap. It is where I've mastered the bunny flop.
It is fluffy and soft as I am fluffy and soft. Thus, I will learn how to mark it as mine.
I will learn how much I can dig at it before it tears. I will learn how to tunnel under it and find daylight again.
I will keep it clean with bunny hork, even as I keep myself clean.
I must protect my towel from being stolen by my little sister.
I must be ever vigilant of humans looking to fold it up and put it away, signifying the end of playtime.
Simon takes his purple towel very seriously.