Blankie Promise

I distinctly remember where I was when I made the "Blankie Promise." I was a teenager living in Carleton, Michigan and was standing in our front room. I made the "Blankie Promise" while searching for the 94th time for my baby sister Katie's must-have-at-all-times blankie that always seemed to get misplaced. The promise went something like this: "I will never, ever allow my child to get so attached to a blanket or toy that I have to go looking for it before nap time."
This, along with many other prideful statements, went out the window the moment I actually became a mother. Whether I liked it or not, there was the 5 lb. afghan that had to go everywhere with Isaiah (that thing saw as many states as Isaiah did). There was the Eddie doll with hair that stuck up 4 inches high because Elijah had to put his fingers through it while he sucked his thumb and fell asleep.
For Adriana, I decided to try not to fight an attachment but to pick the attachment item. I bought a sweet, fuzzy blanket with a stuffed bunny sewn to it. It was cute and small. But, of course, she could care less about it; she chose her own blankie. I put it in her bed one night and haven't been able to get it out since. She loves to snuggle with it and whimpered the last time I washed it.

And if you look in our attic you'll find a twenty-something-year-old, fuzzy pink blanket with worn edges that I still can't bear to see go in the dumpster.