It's always sad when you see one that you love so much nearing the end. We have been experiencing such a thing, and will probably be for quite some time as Ethan has trouble letting go. And I must say that I feel his pain.
When I was a young child, before the mere age of four, I had one such beloved friend: Blue Blankie. Blue was, as her name would suggest, blue. But not just any blue. Blue was a soft blue material with a darker blue flower print and had a blue satin binding. Blue was the most perfect of all companions. Blue was warm when I was cold, cold when I was warm. Blue dried my tears and comforted my fears. As you may be able to tell, Blue is no more.
As I mentioned before, Blue met her demise when I was four. I caught the stomach flu (probably from one of my jealous siblings, out to sabotage our relationship, no doubt) and naturally, regurgitated on her at some point in the night. My mother tells me that Blue was already in tatters. This is where we disagree. I do not remember any such distress. In my mind, Blue was perfect. My mother even argues that had she tried to put her into the washer one more time, Blue would have come out in threads. So, in order to save the dignity of Blue, she simply placed her into the garbage can the night before trash pick-up day.
I recall clearly, sitting next to the garbage can in the garage, crying for what seemed like hours. I couldn't believe that I would no longer have Blue and was so mad at my mother's refusal to attempt Blue's resuscitation. Frequently, I tell this story at family gatherings to a rapt audience as my mother rolls her eyes.
What's that they say about what goes around...?
Ethan has had his blanket (aptly named "Blanket") since before he was born. Grandma Gailey pieced it together herself. He took it everywhere from the time he was one year old.
The binding began to wear. The piece with the chicken went first. Piece by piece, Blanket began to die.
Blanket in his glory days:
My dilemma is this: Do I take his blanket from him now, before it becomes as tattered and unstable as Blue and store it away in a box so that he can look at it when he is old or do I let him have as much time with him as the fabric will allow before I am forced to accept such an undignified exit as my Blue?
I decided to let Ethan choose, which he refuses to do. Denial. Instead, he told me his blanket was fine as he put his head through the hole in the middle.
For the time being, it is in his possession, but the clock is ticking and time is short.
What would you do?