My eight year old son has become quite attached to his baby blanket lately.
He waited until he was older to become attached. When he was littler he wanted to be wrapped up in all the blankeys. Every single one of his baby blankets had to be in his crib while he slept. I'm sure that was a fire hazard of some sort but the kid has lived thus far.
Since then one particular blanket has become the favorite. He wraps it about him when he plays his Nintendo DS. The smell reminds him to blink.
This morning my son wanted to take his blanket on the ride to school with him, so he could give it a warm cuddle before I shoved him out of the van into the cold morning air. He understood how uncouth it would be to take a baby blanket into the school but leaving it in the van until I picked him up after school seemed like good middle ground.
I told him no. Blankies stay at home. At his age the furthest the blanky should travel is back and forth from the washing machine.
He looked so sad.
I felt bad even if it was the right thing to do. I had to do the same thing with his oldest brother, my son who is now closing in on twenty years old and in the Navy.
His blanket was named "Boit" and it had a special corner, a corner that had become so saliva stained and shredded that there was danger of breeding a new communicable disease. When the Navy Manchild was old enough to finally understand I gave Boit a final laundering, put it in a box and stored it away. Every once in a while my oldest son would ask about his blanket and I'd say he'd get it back when he was a grown up.
I thought it would help my eight year old understand things when I told him about his brother and Boit.
His response? "Send my brother his Boit! He needs it!"
So, if any of you readers and other hangers on see a sailor carrying around a blue blanket with a farm print on one side and a shredded corner, that's my son. Say hello.
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