Little L loves his blanket. Whenever he is upset he wails, “I….want….my…blanket.” And as soon as he gets it, he pops his thumb in his mouth, sticks the corner of the blanket up his nose and peace is restored.
He really does stick the corner UP his nose. One day he instructed me on how to do it. I pretended to not understand how to stick the blanket UP my nose while he gave his very detailed and hands-on directions (No, Mommy, like this!). Eventually believing the technique was too advanced for me to grasp, he finally gave up.
You have to draw the line somewhere and that was the line I chose that day.
Well, Little L recently misplaced that all important blanket, which truly looks more like a dirty dish rag than something to cuddle with. If we ever left it somewhere (and, at this point, I’m guessing we might have) the lucky soul to find it would likely approach it with caution and pick it up with a stick held at arm’s length for fear of catching something upon contact. With good reason I suppose (see above).
There is no telling where that blanket is. We have had it with us non-stop for the past three years, always tucking it into pockets or purses “just in case.” It has made its clandestine way to pre-school only to be banished to the cubby for the day. It was been strapped into car seats, snuggled on beaches and squeezed on airplanes. Like Linus, Little L has dragged it behind him on playgrounds and in grocery stores. It could be anywhere.
Our own Linus
As I write this lament for L and the loss of his first prized possession, I am reminded of a little episode not too long ago:
Little L and I were just hanging out watching Kipper, all cuddled up and cozy when he decided to abandon me for a raucous game of Guess Who? in the next room. Didn’t know Guess Who? could be raucous? Clearly you don’t have a house full of boys.
Anyway, Little L decided to leave me for his big brothers. So I tried to lay on a little guilt trip. Guilt is in my blood, I can’t help it. In this case, however, I was dosing it out instead of carrying it around all bottled up inside.
“Are you leaving me?,” I asked sadly with lowered eyes.
Little L turned and looked at me, his chubby little hand still on the doorknob.
“Will you be scared?,” he asked quietly.
Hmmm…I wondered how to play this one to get more quiet time with my three year old while he still thinks I am simply wonderful. Because I know this too shall pass.
“A little bit.”
Little L let go of the doorknob. He thought. He walked back toward me and I smiled at him.
“Here, Mommy, you hold my blanket and then you won’t be scared anymore.”
What a sweet gesture to not only offer his most favorite thing in the world, but to want to give me the intangible comfort that it brings him. Knowing the degree of his attachment to that blanket, I was, and still am, amazed by his generosity.
So, today, things are moving along in the household as smoothly as possible without blanket around. Little L, being an extremely reasonable little guy, has gradually given in to necessity and accepted the back up blanket that I kept on a shelf for just such a rainy day. He uses that substitute but he is clearly still holding out hope.
When asked the other day what he wanted Santa to bring him, he said, “I just want my old blanket that smells stinky and good.”
