Jack and his Blankie

   This is a memory I wrote about my son, almost exactly 2 years ago. He is now approaching 6, my how time flies. This memory has been on my mind lately and so I dug it out of the depths of my saved Word files. I decided it had to be shared. What better way to kick off a blog than with something so loving such as this?
Sweet memories.
Enjoy.
{And then go find something or someone to cuddle.}

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     My son, Jack, loves his blankie. It was a hand-me-down gift from his baby sitter, still in great condition. A simple piece of  fleece material with brightly colored dinosaurs printed on it. It is cut around the edge in one inch strips then tied in knots so there are tassels around the whole thing. Out of all the silky and velvety blankets that he was given as a newborn, once he was old enough to have a preference he chose the one that had been loved by another baby already.

      Now years later as he approaches his fourth birthday he still loves it and uses it as his comfort item when he is upset. When he is tired he bunches the tassels up in his hand and tickles his face with them until he falls asleep.  He can’t fully snuggle up to someone without it.  I shudder to think of a night when the blankie goes missing. That will surely be a bad night for everyone.

      I have often considered finding that same material and getting a “back-up blankie” just in case, but it just wouldn’t be the same if I did and he would probably know it was different. I’m sure if that were to happen all the magic in his blankie would be lost. The same way the velveteen rabbit held so much magic from being loved on. So the blankie stays as it is. Magic, dirt, and all.

     Since the blankie goes where he goes, it gets dirty fast. A weekly washing is always needed and sometimes a midweek washing too. As a baby he used to stand at the washer crying and watch it spin around and around until it was time to put it in the dryer, anxiously awaiting a soft, warm, freshly washed blankie to emerge.

     A few Sundays ago, I was finishing up my weekly laundry routine and trying to get my kids ready for bed at the same time.  A hurt and sleepy Jack walked through my bed room door with tears in his eyes. He and his brother were wound up and rough housing and of course, the little brother always takes a beating in these "brother-battle" situations. He cried to me about how his big brother had hurt him as I snuggled him in my arms and kissed his face and head.

     “Jack,” I said to him “let’s go get your blankie out of the dryer, OK?” I walked down the hallway to the laundry room with my near-four year old cradled in my arms like a baby. His not so little legs dangling over my arms as I walked. I opened the dryer door, got out his blankie, and walked back to my room. I stood him up right on my bed and shook the blanket out and wrapped it around him from head to toe, and then I took him in my arms and cradled him again.

     He nestled his face in his blankie and closed his eyes as I soothed him, rocking back and forth. He took a deep breath in and looked up at me with crystal blue eyes and said, “I love freshly washed blankies.”
      Those little words melted my heart.  “Oh, you do?” I asked him, “I’m so glad, because I washed it special for you.”  I could have spent the rest of my life as a laundry maid and died happy from the memory of that moment, which is saying a lot since laundry is every parent's common nemesis.

      I kept on rocking him, sitting on the edge of my bed with stacks of freshly washed clothes all around us. I looked at his wispy strawberry-blonde hair swept over his forehead and the red little bump above his eye from his brother-battle. I looked at his closed eyes and eyelashes, clumped together and wet from tears. I studied his little face, half hidden in the blanket until I laid him down in his bed for the night. 

My sweet little boy loves his blankie.