High-maintenance? Or adult baby?

I heard on the radio this morning that one of the warning signs of being a high-maintenance girl is having a lot of stuffed animals.

You thought I was kidding, didn't you?
There he is in all his glory, folks: the namesake
of this blog, and my bedmate of 27 years: Heart Po.

If that's the case, K is in a world of trouble. Our bedroom looks like a 5-year-old's fantasy suite, complete with heart po (pink gingham pillow who inspired the name of this blog), a purple stuffed pegasus that K got me for valentine's day (Peggy), and a giant carebear (I need someone to snuggle with when K is not home and/or is staying up late playing call of duty.)

This is not just for show, or for purposes of exaggeration. Ask anyone who comes over on a regular basis. Our room looks like this ALL the time. And let me tell you why I love K: he NEVER complains. He actually steals our bedmates for snuggling purposes in the middle of the night, much to my chagrin. I try to wrestle them away from him, but he is surprisingly strong when in a post-COD coma.

Ma-ma?

Does this make me high-maintenance? I think it actually makes me more like the equivalent of one of those adults who like to dress up as giant babies in cribs. But not in the weird fetishy way.