Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Yellow Blanket

I still have a blanky. I am not ashamed. I love it and I need it. Especially after giving Cuddle Puff away. Cuddle Puff is my stuffed pink mouse. Was might be a better word. Now Cuddle Puff is my stuffed pink pancake. Let me explain.

When Ryan and I were dating he had heart surgery. I thought it would be a poetic gesture if I loaned him Cuddle Puff to get him through the ordeal. While he appreciated the thought, he may have been a little grossed-out by the patchy pink/gray rodent (Cuddle Puff had seen better days). Although I informed Ryan that Cuddle Puff frequented the Laundromat, the Puff still remained on the bedside table next to Ryan instead of tucked in bed with him.

This is why when Ryan and I got engaged I knew that my mouse had to go. I bravely gave it to Ryan before we wed and told him he could throw it away if he wanted. Instead, he gently tucked it away with his other childhood treasures in his black chest. Is it any wonder why I married the man?

So maybe the joke is on Ryan. I may have gotten rid of my stuffed animal but I kept my yellow blanky. I sleep with the threadbare rag tucked in my arms every night. I have finally admitted to myself that I don’t just like it because of its soft texture or vibrant color, but am completely attached to it.

I still miss Cuddle-Puff, though. I snuck to Ryan’s treasure chest just to check on my old friend once. I pushed aside Ryan’s old baseball cards and footballs and *gasp* there was my beloved mouse “de-Puffed.” Cuddle Puff was as flat as a pancake with no hope of recovery. It was heartbreaking to say the least.

So now the yellow blanket is really it… for me at least. Doug has a blanky, too. My mom made it for him and it is blue. He calls it his “gooka.” Previously, he has shunned all other blankets, but there was a surprising development this morning.

I went to check on him in the master bedroom and Doug was on my bed snuggling with my yellow blanket. I have mixed emotions about this. On one hand, I feel like my blanket is cheating on me. On the other hand, I feel more bonded to Doug because he too has discovered the secret wonders of the yellow blanket. Just to be safe, however, I should not introduce him to my pink-and-condensed mouse.


Janssen said...

What a cute story! Both of my younger brothers had blankets that they were REALLY attached to. Crawford had a crocheted one and he loved sticking his fingers through the little holes. Shepard had one with a ribbon border and he would rub the silky border between his thumb and index finger. When Crawford moved into a real bed, he told my mom that he didn't need his blanket anymore (he was about two and a half); he was fine, but we all cried a little because it was so sad to see him grow up.

Anonymous said...

I complete understand you, my sister. My blankee, which probably looks akin to a rag you might was the car with, or perhaps clean up dog pee, has become my ultimate treasure, and my husband will have to be exceptionally tolerant of it. Fortunately for him, it will probably be a very small fragment of fabric, ready and liable to evaporate at any moment by the time I have chosen a man to marry. But I think I will follow in your footsteps, offer up an animal sacrifice but cling to the blankee that has seen me through so much, and has lovingly tolerated all of the drool, sweat, and love that has gone into it (I WASH IT TOO, I SWEAR)

Anonymous said...

You are my favorite blogger in the universe.