The blanket. I keep it clean or smelling good for seconds at a time. Once the boy gets a hold of it, it immediately becomes one with the child. Smelly, softer, dirtier and less in tact. Saying that he loves it is barely touching the surface of his adoration of this inanimate object. It’s his heart, his warmth, his cave and his head.
It’s much larger than him, about a queen size composed of pieces sewn together and tons of fluff inside. It has a few tears which have been lovingly repaired. It’s supposed to be white.
He searches for it when he is sad or tired or just wants to hide away. It can cover him completely..even with his long legs. He burritos himself with only his feet peeking out. He creates his feelings with this lovey. It’s his best friend.
Because his love for his blanket is so strong, like it’s odor, I know that parting with it is something he does reluctantly. But when he offers it to one of us, he is expressing a love so strong. As I’ve continued to deal with a chronic pain that has no rhyme or reason, he has given me his blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders and covering my legs and feet. This action is always finished with a kiss. My son showing his love the one way he knows how.
Growing up, I had a favorite blanket or toy that I carried with me everywhere. I brought it on every trip and outing. Did you have a special something that gave you comfort? Does your child?
