Blankey

Picture above is of LR at Daddy's office holiday party. He ran into a cube and started answering phones - a natural businessman. "If you could get me those TPS reports, that would be great."

All of my siblings and I had security blankets. My older brother and I had a single security blanket which we loving called "blankey." I believe my brother still has his, but I lost mine in sixth grade during a sleep over. I still have the faded matching pillow on my nightstand. My mother thought she was staying a step ahead with my younger brother by making two identical red bordered blankets for him, one for trips and the other for bed. Her new system broke down when he ended up wanting both all the time. My step-mother tried a different strategy and bought sixteen similar but not identical small blankets so that my little sister would never be without. She was right, my sister wasn't attached to a single blanket, but certainly wanted more than one "wuggie" at a time. She often wanted 4 or so in the crib and more than one in the car.

When LR came along I didn't know whether or not he'd want a pacifier (he didn't), a snugly toy (no one in particular), or a blanket. He actually took to his blanket because of my fears, not his. I started putting the blanket crocheted by Gigi in the crib for warmth before he was coordinated enough to free himself should he get tangled. I chose the crocheted blanket because it had holes in it for him to breath through. I guess it worked because twice I went to him in the middle of the night with the thing wound tightly around his head. It scared me, but not enough to take it out of the crib. (Just enough to buy a video monitor!)

The blanket spends most of the day in the crib, but on occasion he brings it out with him after a nap. Especially if he's feeling like he didn't get closure on that nap. So he drags it around the house and lays on the floor with it. To put him to bed, I often start with just the bottle. Halfway through he'll push it away. I ask him if he wants his blanket and he smiles. I put him into his crib, he grabs the blanket, stands back up, and I pick him up again. We go back to the glider and he takes the rest of the bottle, all the time working his arms like a taffy pull, manipulating the blanket over and under, then inside out and over the head. He loves sticking his fingers through the holes, stretching the blanket, and despite my fears that it wouldn't hold up under the abuse, it's yet to unravel a single thread.

As a backup, I've added another blanket, crocheted in similar colors by my mother's Australian cousin. He's accepted it as an alternate when his main one is in the wash, although when presented with both he always chooses Gigi's first. He hasn't insisted on both yet. On top of that, Gigi is making a smaller version of his current blanket for travel. I think we've got our bases covered, but like my younger siblings, I have no doubt that he'll outsmart us at some point.