A lovely lovey love story

With four kids in our family, we’ve had our share of loveys. Stuffed teddys, of course. And stuffed dogs, bunnies, cats, monkeys, even an anteater (my sister went to U.C. Irvine. Possibly for the mascot.)

But the child who was most attached to her lovey — the kid whose lovey we knew we’d cross state lines to retrieve, because no one would sleep until it was safely home — was my oldest daughter. She was attached to her blankey…simple enough, except that the blankey was a twin-sized flannel quilt.

My husband’s family has been making these for every new baby for generations now. It’s a beautiful idea — each quilt has squares from every other blanket that has been made, along with new squares for the new generation. And the quilts are lovely. But watching an 18-month-old who’s still struggling to walk, toddle around carrying a massive blanket was a sight to behold.

 

She spent every winter for years cuddled up in the flannel blanket, all warm and snuggly. And she also spent every sweltering summer night cuddled under the same blankey…nights when it was so hot, I’d sneak into her room the minute she fell asleep so I could get it off of her, afraid she’d overheat.

That quilt came on every road trip we ever took. We tried to pack light, but no one considered leaving the blanket for a second.

 

You’d think with a blanket that size, we’d never lose it…but we did have a few close calls. My favorite, and the story that keeps my faith in all humankind, was when we stopped at a rest area somewhere in Indiana. We ate lunch, the Kids Stories played, we all went to the bathroom, we took a long, leisurely break, and finally piled back in the car. We were driving out of the parking lot, when my husband glanced in the rearview mirror. He saw a large, burly, bearded man, next to his 18-wheeler, frantically jumping up and down and waving in one massive hand — a fuzzy pink blanket. I love him forever.

 

Last summer, when she was almost ten, I asked about the blanket. It’s been repaired extensively, and it still has holes and parts of it that won’t really mend anymore.

So I asked what she thought. Did she still want to sleep with it every night, or did she think we could fold it up and keep it in the trunk in my room? She thought about it for a few days, and finally we folded it, and stored it away. I think it helped to know it was still nearby, not really gone. And someday, when she has her own children, each of them will get their own blankey — with some squares that look just like hers. Handed on down through generations.

[Source: http://blogs.babycenter.com/mom_stories/a-lovey-love-story/]