Memoirs of a Boy-Mom: Dear Yellow Blankie
From the archives…
Dear Yellow Blankie,
I have shunned you in the past. I’m not a big fan. I thought he had almost outgrown your love.
I’m here to say I am sorry. I was wrong.
You loved him despite my best efforts to keep you apart. You were there for him in his darkest hour. You comforted him during moments of total horror. It was you he wanted when the needles came out.
Thank you for being there for Scooby and going with him where I could not go. You are a faithful, if rather faded, friend.
P.S. He informed me this morning that he plans to bequeath you to his own babies someday. He won’t be having the babies, of course, his wife will. He doesn’t know who she is going to be, but he does know he’s having two. Their names will be John and Han. Just so you know.
I wrote this when he was six, shortly after the Incident of the Broken Arm:
…While always a blankie kind of a guy, Scoob never leaves the house with his loveys. They are merely for bedtime or snuggling, and the occasional sick day. En route to the ER, the plaintive, tear-stained request from the backseat that we go back to the house for Yellow Blankie was immediately, and swiftly, granted. There’s not a whole heck of a lot a parent can do in a situation like this to relieve their child’s pain. This one thing we could do, and do it we did.
Yellow Blankie stayed with him all night, was even permitted to go into surgery, and he was wrapped in Yellow Blankie when he came out.
That was nearly four years ago. Yellow Blankie, you are still part of the family, albeit no longer yellow but a rather tired beige. He won’t admit it, but he still loves you dearly and complains if I don’t get you through the wash in time for bed. You’re not always the first choice when we go out of town or camping, but you’re still there for him when he gets home. Faithfully and always..