My daughter has this blanket, we call it Blankie, that has been with her since she was born. I don’t know when it is exactly that she became so attached to it, but she has. She is six now, and if I’d let her I’m pretty sure that she would take it to school with her. I call her my Linus baby because she sucks her thumb and carried her blanket with her almost where ever she goes.
Her blanket has been worn through, more than once. When it got to the point that we could no longer sew it back together, my mother and I sat down to make a “sleeping bag” for Blankie. I took Boo to the fabric store and let her and Blankie pick out the fabric that she wanted. We ended up with two different fabrics, one blue with cartoon cat faces in circles all over it, the other white with pink roses. She even picked the binding and the yarn with which to tie it. We spent all afternoon one Saturday when she was about three and a half sewing Blankie into a new covering.
That night, when it came time for bed she asked to have Blankie taken back out. When I told her I couldn’t take Blankie out she started throwing a fit. She told me that I had “Killed Blankie!” and was inconsolable for the better part of the evening. I finally ended up cutting a whole in one fo the corners so that she could still feel and see that Blankie was indeed there.
I still have issues on whether I should laugh at the whole thing (killing Blankie) or if I should cry for causing such heart ache and pain for my baby girl. Honestly, it depends on the day.
Shortly before this incident she had gone to visit her dad and had accidentally left Blankie at grandmas house when they left. It took almost a week to get it back. That was not a pleasant time. She was crying and moaning and checking the mail every day to see if Blankie had come. It was heart breaking to watch. And I’m sure very stressful for her.
We are well on our way to wearing out Blankie’s new coverings, the fabric is wearing thin around the binding and in the places where my daughter rubs it, and I don’t know that we will ever get it completely clean. Lately she has taken to calling the washer “evil” and saying that Blankie doesn’t want a bath. This has helped in keeping Blankie from wearing down as quickly as she is more careful about getting “her” near sources of dirt, like the egg dye from Easter and dragging behind her on the scooter.
At times I wonder if I’ve been a bit too lax with Blankie, but then I think, she’s happy, it’s not hurting anything. And, tucked in a box in my closet is an old purple and white check blanket that still smells of cabbage patch doll and sunshine that I loved very much as a little girl. And it makes me smile.