I’m stolen gold or slang for cheeks, one found in chests, the other in seats.

What kind of milk do you get from a cow that’s been udderly pampered?

I fear a certain monster adorned in blue. A sweet tooth, insatiable, would bite me right through. He feeds on me and others to illicit childish laughter and cheer. How do I get away from Sesame Street, where he'll oft appear? What am I?

I'm a fantastic form of insulation, so long as your lungs don't digest my gestation. I was once in cigarette filters, which truly hits that coffin nail on the head; hell, we used to make blankets to sleep out of this.

Tiny diplomats who negotiate peace with giggles and cries, they arrive with no luggage but bring joy in bundles.