Do you have a shirt that you really love,
One that you feel so groovy in ?
You don't even mind if it starts to fade,
That only makes it nicer still.
I love my shirt, I love my shirt,
My shirt is so comfortably lovely.
- Donovan
At first I thought Em was just beginning to express her own sense of style.
But I was wrong. She doesn’t care what I dress her in. I can put her in a potato sack, a shimmery gold jumpsuit, or a chicken costume and it doesn’t matter, as long as she ALSO gets to wear her pink and gray striped, totally cheaptastic, don’t-hold-it-too-close-to-a-fire-or-it-will-melt, 100% polyester hoodie.
I’m more than slightly aghast. Over the past 17 months, I have presented her with numerous viable options for a “security object” that I thought she would take a liking to: a soft blankie with smooth edging, a little cotton worm (trust me, its far more adorable than it sounds), a bear that has a hot water bottle inside it, a lamby that makes lulling, soothing sounds, just to name a few. Em has resisted attachment to all of these perfectly wonderful companions. It seems that she has been holding out for a far more unlikely, far more oddball source of comfort.
Seriously? A polyester hoodie? Every time Em wears it (which is pretty much ALWAYS now), her hair balloons into an orb of static electricity, making her look like a half-pint-sized Art Garfunkel. On the rare occasion that she is NOT wearing her hoodie, Em holds it, squeezes it, and does a little happy dance like she’s just been reunited with a long lost friend.
My husband thinks it’s so cute, this love of such an unassuming object. I agree, I really do, it’s totally adorable. But come on, Emmy. Polyester? Really?
Em’s wardrobe is full of beautiful, 100% cotton hand-me-downs from my sister’s children (which I am eternally grateful for). They are the epitome of comfort in clothing – organic, slightly worn in, and completely non-itchy. If Em has to be the weird kid (which she does, because after all she is MY child), why couldn’t she have at least chosen to emotionally bond with a slightly less offensive material?
I myself was totally attached to a blanky through many of my early (and not-so-early) childhood years. Rumor has it that as a baby I started dragging a full-sized blanket around with me everywhere I went, until my mother had the wisdom to cut it into blanky-sized quarters. It was a smart move on her part; each blanky piece had a shelf-life, and would be retired after it started to “show its age,” only to be replaced by a newer but nearly identical blanky.
I still remember my blanky with incredible fondness. It was pink, super fuzzy (highly pilled from its overuse), and had a ribboned edge that I loved holding against my face, especially at night. I swear, if I close my eyes now, I can almost feel the memory of it rubbing against my cheek…
Oh, crap.
I’ve just realized.
I’m quite certain my blanky was 100% polyester. Or acrylic. Definitely NOT 100% cotton.
Ok, Em. I give in. You can love your little hoodie. Mama gets it now.
