As with most stories, it begins before Ted, and actually has very little to do with Ted until the end, when Ted becomes all that matters.
A few years ago, in a house perhaps very much like your own, there were five children. They'd grown up a bit, as children tend to do, and were safely out of the baby stage and had relaxed into the confident deciders of their own path stage. Or something like that. Whatever the stage, these five children felt empowered to make their own decorating decisions in family rooms. They were no doubt helped by active imaginations and unsupervised access to craft supplies.
Posters began to pop up on the walls. These children lived in a kingdom of their own imagining (heavily influenced by their entertainment choices), and so the posters were all to do with the political workings of said kingdom. Long live the queen, wanted for stealing potatoes, etc. As with any imagined kingdom, there were disgruntled peasants and underappreciated second sons daughters who had a bit of a rebellious streak. This manifested mainly as vandalism.
An important side note: it is quite possible that in the ever shifting allegiances between the children, each of the five ended up on both sides at one point or another. It would appear that the constant, undisputed Queen of Hearts was Olivia, although it is unclear whether she made any posters herself. I would not be at all surprised to learn that the original posters were made by the same people who vandalized them.
The posters went up, the posters were vandalized, and the posters remained, becoming part of the fabric of family life. No one noticed them anymore. The political strife was forgotten, and the children moved on to more mundane things like homework and yelling at each other.
Until a pot-stirrer arrived on the scene. Some may call her a hero, for without her Ted does not exist. But her original intention was just to throw a little grease on the fire and see what happened. Enter Mrs. Hodges. She had been visiting quite regularly, as often as once a week, to play cards with the other adults in the evenings. As one does. But in between hands, her artist's eye noticed that the posters were old and no longer updated. One night, Mrs. Hodges decided to fix it. She added new vandalism to some posters and put up new notices with interactive artwork that encouraged collaboration.
Oh, the uproar that occurred the next morning when the children awoke. How could they have been so lax in the decorating of their own kingdom? A flurry of creative activity ensued. Old posters were removed. New posters were hung. The queen is still despised, but she has new nemeses at every turn. The vandals came out in full force, even offering classes (with pull off contact tabs!). Of course, the guards are prohibited from investigating. A few new posters invite Mrs. Hodges to contribute again, and overnight new life has been breathed into the adventure.
Mrs. Hodges is delighted to comply. There follow a few weeks of friendly artistic repartee. No peaceful scene can last forever, though, and our hero (?) decides to strike again.
A new poster is displayed. More a proclamation than a poster, really. There's a rascally villain on the scene, craftily coming in and hiding 17 diamonds all over the house. The children have to find all the diamonds in order to discover the newcomer's true identity. They find nine diamonds very quickly. They put up a retaliatory poster requiring Mrs. Hodges to find scraps of paper as well. They find five more diamonds, and all the scraps of paper they hid for Mrs. Hodges. Unfortunately, at this point Grandma comes to stay for a few weeks and rearranges the furniture. Whatever hope there was for the last three diamonds is lost.
This wrinkle hardly matters, though, because the children think they know that the newcomer is Mrs. Hodges, even though in reality Mrs. Hodges is just the creator of the newcomer and now the children may never know the identity of this challenger to the power of the Queen of Hearts. What does matter is one sentence on the proclamation: Where is your night watchman?
We do not have a night watchman. Obviously. Or should I say, we did not have a night watchman. Gretchen and Kaitlyn set out to remedy this. They found poster board somewhere -- probably in the unsupervised craft supplies -- and traced Matthias. They cut and drew and colored and eventually produced a quite good Matthias-sized night watchman. Sleeping, of course, with drool coming down his chin and a teddy bear clutched in his hand. His name is Ted.
A retaliatory note was composed. Of course we have a night watchman. How could you think we did not? He's obviously very dedicated to his job and will catch you if you dare to try any tricks again. Carefully balanced next to this note was Ted. Asleep on his feet.
At this point in our story, we reach another lull. Summer is in full swing, families are busy, and Mrs. Hodges has not returned to play cards. She has not been able to see and appreciate the wittiness of the note or the presence of Ted or the failure of the children to find the remaining diamonds. And so it remains, dusty but waiting, a shrine to a game cut short.
Ted grows bent. He falls over and is propped back up. He sleepily guards board games and dinners and homework and messes. He gets tucked between shelves to help his posture. He gets moved around the house on adventures and tries out some of the beds. They must not be that comfortable, because he always returns to sleep at his post instead. There is talk of letting Ted go -- not in front of the children, of course, how could we be so callous?
And then one day, Ted is on the ground with a pair of scissors nearby. Gretchen and Kaitlyn are performing surgery. The parents notice. It must be time, they decide. The children are giving up Ted on their own. Questions are asked. Vehement denials are returned. We are NOT getting rid of Ted, oh no, we are improving him. The surgery was just to remove the teddy bear.
This might seem unnecessary to you, as to the parents. That is only because you are lacking in imagination and vision. Of course the teddy bear had to be removed, because how else would you put new clothes on Ted?
The teddy bear was removed. New clothes were acquired. Since Ted is modeled after Matthias, Matthias's clothes fit perfectly. Dressed in off duty loungewear, Ted can finally take a break. He reclines in the easy chair, head and feet draped over the arms in such a good imitation of his progenitor that the unwary parent might be tricked into wondering what Matthias is doing in the chair instead of getting ready for school. Not that any parents in this house would do that. Nor would they be surprised every time they come around the corner. The parents in this house know that Matthias is definitely doing what he is supposed to do and that the creature napping in the chair is Ted. Obviously.
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