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Re: All About "Security Blankets"
by Christopher on Sunday June 19, @10:55AM
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A Non-Negotiable
I’m always envious of people who can pack well and travel light. Every summer I take my family to the mountains of West Virginia and we meet up with a friend of mine and his family for a week of mountain biking, swimming and relaxation. When he pulls up, the five of them jump out of their SUV each carrying a bag about the size of a bowling ball case. In that bag is everything they need for the entire week. If it’s not in the bag, they don’t need it. They are the products of a military upbringing and know the value of packing quickly and traveling light.
I don’t possess these skills and when we pack, my wife and are on a totally different program. When we pull up to the hotel, our truck is loaded down with nearly every thing we own. I’ve got a bag strapped to the roof, I can’t see out the back window and the four of us barely have room to breath with all the luggage crammed into the passenger space. If I thought it would look absurd, I’d rent a U-haul and tow it along. I wonder how much the rear shocks can take given the load they have bare during our vacations. All this for 5 days and 4 nights.
We pack so much and pack so haphazardly that It’s hard for us to discern if we’ve forgotten something important. To this end, we have a very simple last minute checklist that my wife and I run down just as we’re pulling out of the driveway. This list has come to be known as the “non-negotiables” list and is as follows”
Kids? Check.
Credit Card? Check.
Blankie Guy? Check.
At which point we both turn the back seat and see our son Sean clutching Blankie Guy and smiling from ear to ear.
It’s difficult to trace Blankie Guy’s lineage. No doubt he arrived at our house as one of dozens of receiving blankets gifted to us at the baby shower before my son’s birth. At the time, we made no special note of his existence as he didn’t appear to be extraordinary in any way. After our son was born we began to rotate the blankets with him every evening as new parents to, attempting to ensure that a fresh blanket was in his crib every naptime.
In time, Blankie Guy rose above all other blankets in the house as the supreme choice. He wasn’t largest or the softest. He wasn’t the most colorful or the attractive. Yet he was chosen. We noticed he slept better and was consoled faster with Blankie Guy than any other toy or item. Our first reaction was to acquire a clone of Blankie Guy so that we could have a spare when Blankie Guy was taking a bath or if he were to get lost. We found no suitable body doubles for Blankie Guy and soon realized he needed to be added to the list of non-negotiables.
Blankie Guy has been referred to as a 'security blanket', but that term never really fully described the responsibilities and duties of Blankie Guy. His beside manner helped my son through splinters, x-rays, eye exams and flu shots. His friendship guided us through our first day of school, our first play group and our first karate class. Blankie Guy is only 4 years old, yet he’s traveled thousands of miles crossing 10 states with us.
Of Blankie Guy’s four corners, one has emerged as our favorite. Even in the dark, Sean can locate that corner, pull it to his face and simultaneously suck his fingers and the corner. Blankie Guy doesn’t spend every waking moment with Sean, but pretty close to it. While out at playgroup for example, my wife just lets his favorite corner hang out of her bag, then when Sean need’s a ‘fix’, he’ll run up to the corner, get a few sniffs and sucks and go back to jumping and playing like the other four year olds in the room. It’s strange to see him react Blankie Guy much like the caffine addicts do to a cup of java at a coffee house. Sometimes we’ll try to trick him and give him a different corner and he just laughs as if we’ve told a bad knock-knock joke. He doesn’t say a word, he just finds ‘his’ corner and goes right on sucking.
Blankie Guy is more than just a conveyance for keeping warm. He’s a cape, a turban, a toga, a rope, a belt and a mask. He’s been a paleontologist, a marine biologist, and a rescue hero. He has climbed mountains, skied slopes and bicycled through the woods. Blankie Guy has been on a thousand adventures and saved countless lives.
When you ask my son who the members of his family are, his response reassures Blankie Guy’s status: “My family is Mommy, Daddy, Baby Matthew, Kitty and Blankie Guy”. I never thought of him as a real part of the family until the day he briefly went missing. We were on our way home from the store when Sean queried: “Where’s Blankie Guy?”. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got a cold chill running through my spine. Good Heavens! Where is he? I haven’t seen him since we entered the store. It was 5:45 and the store closed in 15 minutes. I made a frantic call to my friend who owned the shop, pleading with her not to close until we had arrived and checked the premises. Reality started to set in for Sean as he contemplated for the first time that this may mean the end for Blankie Guy.
I tried to calm him down, but must not have sounded very reassuring. As he began to cry I thought of what I’d do if he wasn’t at the store. Would we have to spend a night or two or more without Blankie Guy? Where would I look next? Maybe an Amber Alert was in order, or perhaps the National Guard could be called out. As I pulled into the store’s parking lot, my friend Darlene was standing near the front door with Blankie Guy in hand. I thanked her profusely and tossed him into the back seat to my son’s waiting arms. Whew! That was close. Sean and I didn’t say another word the rest of the drive home, we were too emotionally exhausted. I knew I’d have to be more careful with him as he was truly an important member of the family.
As a parent to Blankie Guy I’ve become acutely aware of fellow Blankie Guys . Whether at the mall, the beach, the doctor’s officer or in a restaurant, I can spot a true member of the Blankie Guy family. They have familiar characteristics; all have torn edges, all have the nap worn off of them and all are less than spotless. Fellow Blankie Guy parents know the trials we go through when bathtime arrives. My son will sit for 45 minutes in front of the washing machine and will alert the rest of the house when the cycle has stopped so we can rush Blankie Guy to the dryer! I once had a woman scold me because my son was snuggling with a less than snow white Blankie Guy. I could tell by the disdain in her voice that neither she nor her child had never loved a Blankie Guy and she could not possible know the trials we endure trying to keep Blankie Guy in tip-top shape.
My son has reached his 4th year and a constant topic between my wife and I is how much longer Blankie Guy will remain an integral part of our nuclear family. I never really thought about it until one day when I saw a girl about 9 years old walking past our house clutching her Blankie Gal. My first thought was to rush out and ask her dad her exact age so I could get a gauge as to how many years we still had left with Blankie Guy. This started a mini obsession to discern how much time we had left and I began to think of other Blankie Guys in history. Linus van Pelt from the Peanuts has been dragging his Blankie Guy since 1952. While I don’t think Sean will be clutching our Blankie Guy for a half century, I don’t see any sign of waning in his dedication.
I know that one soldier from the Civil War carried his army blanket home and used it until he died over 50 years after the war’s end. I learned that a cousin of mine took his Blankie Guy to college. Another friend took her Blankie Gal on her honeymoon! My dedication grew and I needed to find out how much longer this would go on! I’m not sure why I was so intent on finding out when Blankie Guy would make his exit, but I consulted our pediatrician, child psychology books, the internet and finally my mom.
I too had a Blankie Guy as a boy, but as a thirty-five year old father of two, it has been several decades since my Blankie Guy had left my life, but on a recent trip to my mom’s house I asked her how old I was before letting my Blankie Guy go. She explained that once I was in kindergarten and had friends visiting on a regular basis I relied on him less and less. Unlike most parents, when I no longer consulted my Blankie Guy on a regular basis, my mom had the foresight however not to send my Blankie Guy to the waste management facility in Hempstead, Long Island. Instead, she put him in a plastic bag and kept him for some unforseen future purpose. In 1979 when I was eight, Blankie Guy was again called into action and taken out of storage when my father passed away. Mom said that my old friend once again guided me through that difficult time.
The morning after my chat with Mom, I found a plastic bag on the kitchen counter with my name on it. I opened the bag and found to my surprise my well worn and yellow stained Blankie Guy. He was much smaller than I remembered, but I still recognized every tear, hole and stain. He had more holes than my son’s Blankie Guy as I would fall asleep with my fingers and toes in the tears. Once, my grandmother, who was an excellent seamstress, tried to repair the holes in my Blankie Guy, but I threw a tantrum as I couldn’t entangle my fingers in the holes so my father had to pull out her stitches to appease me and within moment I was quickly asleep.
It was nice to see Blankie Guy again and mom gave him to me to do what ever I wanted with him. She had been his keeper for so long and had passed the responsibility onto me for his safe keeping. I took him home and since being reunited with my Blankie Guy, he now resides in my top drawer. While I haven’t checked on him in a while I know he’s there. I’ve also stopped asking when Blankie Guy would cease to be useful and just concentrated on enjoying the time with him that we have.
My thoughts now are with our eight month old son Matthew. So far he hasn’t found his Blankie Guy that he likes, but time will tell. However, there is Bun-Bun. He’s a long eared fuzzy rabbit that get’s his face munched every night just before bedtime. He hasn’t made the “non-negotiable” list so far, but I think it’s just a matter of time before I need to make another trip to Mom’s house to retrieve Puffy the Puppy from the attic.
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