Five bucks to the first person who can guess what the scary item pictured above is. (Ok, I can’t really award five dollars but I would if I could – you get the point).
Give up? My son’s baby blankets. These ratty, gray, torn, permanently damp despite frequent washings and dryings, knotted, miserable-looking shreds of material started as a lovely baby gift. A beautiful, soft, crib blanket personalized with my son’s birth date and name. It was clear by the time he turned one that he was quite attached to this blanket – he had to sleep with it and carried it around like Linus all day long – so I ordered a back-up blanket. Same blanket, same color, just not personalized. I stashed said back-up in his closet and felt very smug and prepared in the event the blanket was left behind or could not be located in the house (which happened more times than I could count, and there was no sleep without this blanket).
My smart son sniffed out the back-up a few weeks later and then insisted on not one, but two blankets at all times – which by now he named “the bs.” Soon after that he managed to knot them together (as you can kind of see in the photo) – this coming from a now five year old who still can’t tie his shoes, managed to tie a knot at age one. Maybe all it takes is motivation.
So here we are, five years later, and my son’s attachment to the bs has not waned in the slightest. He wears them around his neck like a scarf, he says good bye to them and gingerly places them in front of the fireplace in our kitchen before he leaves for school (which he turns on himself – it’s a gas stove and he uses the remote) so they can be “cozy” while he’s gone, he swings them around like a lasso…entertainment with the bs is endless. Some family members have even suggested I wean him off the bs – they are shedding daily and we have pieces of the bs all over the house; this weekend I washed them in a lingerie bag with a dark load – major mistake – bs all over the clean laundry – but who am I to deprive him of this pleasure?
We’ll see how long the bs last – I think they may not be long for this world. I may have to frame the last, final remnant when it comes to be (pardon the pun). What is your child’s most treasured item?