I always looked forward to the day we farewelled Blankie.
The good lord knows, I’ve tried to eradicate it’s existence earlier.
At times, the knowledge of my own somewhat chequered past would have me watching on with a worried frown at the way my eldest sniffed on that filthy looking rag like it was a eucalyptus soaked teddy bear at a 90’s rave party.
There has been many a night where little darling has sneaked into our bed and I’ve spent the next few hours feeling like I was cosying up to Darth Vader. I’d wager that it was not quite so…rigid…but highly irritating nevertheless.
Blankie has caused me pain.
The pain of the bed time ritual and the lean in for final kisses…halted by eyestabbingly sweet and desperate words of ‘Blankie?’
Son of a …
Watching every fabric in existence burn on the bonfire of retribution to pay for the sins of one (accompanied by my own high pitched and hysterical laughter) is a place of comfort in my mind to which I have fled many times.
This momentary release would inevitably be followed by an excruciatingly forced smile and the shrill of words soaked in kind-hearted concern.
‘Where did you leeeeaaaaave it sweetie?’
‘I don’t know.’
Son of freaking …
*High shrill* ‘I’ll go fiiiinnnd it for you sweeeeetiiiieee’.
Fire, death, brimstone.
Fling, toss, capsize.
Uncover, swear, search.
Trash, throw, stamp, kick, thirst for death.
Grumble, hit, slide, slam
And every single time I’d track the despicable thing down.
But last night we couldn’t. We were lucky, the little one was too exhausted to care.
Then today we couldn’t. I looked high and low for Blankie. I turned the world upside down for her. I would always turn the world upside down for her..
Yet it seemed, Blankie had taken off for good. It was spooky. One minute it was there, the next, gone. Vanished in the house, not through visits or travels.
My mind flew to potential suspects. The nephew? He’s capable of hiding it with the personality to suit. His sister? The silent assasin type who flies under the radar of cherub cuteness. The older niece? Seems possible but unlikely. The oldest niece? Nah she’s to sweet for that. However the there was that time I sent her to her room ’til she stopped crying. Perhaps she harbours old resentments.
Or maybe it’s just…gone.
Tonight, as I put my baby down she longed for her Blankie and I did think to myself:
Blankie! Blankie! Oh Blaaaaankiiieee! Why hast thou forsaken us so!!
Yet my little one went to sleep without the comfort of her companion. Courageously, again, she took the night on alone.
I wonder why it is then, that still, I search.
I’m not ready as yet to let go of Blankie. Yet bravely my little one marches on?
I’ll never be ready for the day, when ‘Blankie’ is me.