The Blanket Boy

None of my three children ever got attached to a blanket as a baby. I was seriously disappointed about this.

I don’t think there is anything cuter than a toddler dragging around a faded, ripped up blanket. Something about it just strikes up innocence and sweetness. But like I said, I never had one of these children.

Believe me, I tried. We had a lot of baby blankets….thin, thick, fuzzy, shiny, super soft, nubby, and all kinds of different patterns and characters. As we rocked and snuggled I always draped a blanket on them. When I put them in their cribs they all had a blanket laid on them. None of the kids were disgusted with blankets; they just didn’t want to drag them around.

I thought I had a chance with my youngest son, Cesar. When he woke up in the morning and from naps he would grab his blanket and request to bring it downstairs with him. My body felt giddy at the prospect of having a “Blanket Baby.” I dreamed of the fun challenges this would bring. I know mothers with blanket babies have a hard time getting it washed and there’s always the challenge of replacing the “irreplaceable” blanket that has been lost. My excitement in the possibility of having a “blanket fiend” was short-lived though. Cesar never carried it around. He merely brought it downstairs and never looked at it again. Months ago he even quit requesting to bring blankets downstairs.

I have made peace with this, thanks to my 5 year old son, Bency. Much to my surprise he has come to love blankets. He is actually kind of obsessed with them. Thankfully, he doesn’t want to drag them around and we didn’t have to send one to Kindergarten with him but he does like a blanket wrapped around him when he is sitting watching television. He also requested 3 blankets on his bed this fall as the nights began to get colder.

I was happy to oblige my son with three blankets and as I pulled them out of the chest I told him the story of each blanket.

The first blanket was made by my mom almost 30 years ago. When I was 7 years old I was in a sledding accident and ended up in the hospital for eight days with internal injuries. While I lay in my hospital bed my mom sat by my side and made me this quilt. I loved this quilt and always used it on my bed or to wrap up in when I watched television. I took it with me when I moved out on my own and with its age and several washings it began to tear and get faded. I requested my mom to repair it several times.

The blanket my mom made me when I was 7 years old

She did repair my blanket but she also made me a new quilt. This one was equally loved even though I received it in my 20’s. This one now gets added to my daughter’s bed every Fall.

The second blanket my mom made me that now gets added to my daughter’s bed every fall

The second two blankets I added to my son’s bed, share the same story. They were crocheted by my Great-Grandma Palma on my father’s side. She was Norwegian, very creative and always busy. She made these for my parents in the 1970’s. I remember they always draped over our olive green sofa when I was little. When I moved out of my parent’s house they were passed down to me.

the blankets my Great-Grandma Palma crocheted

When I finished telling the stories of the blankets to my son; he looked at me very earnestly and said, “Mom, please don’t ever pass these blankets down. I want to keep them forever.”

I told him that we would keep them forever.

Little did he realize, I was in fact passing them down to him at this moment as I placed the blankets on his bed.

He is my blanket boy.