Approximately four years back, I made a rookie mistake. The blanket that I registered for, which would become the centerpiece of my child's life, is white. In my defense, this was before I had become a parent. I couldn't begin to comprehend the ability my future kids had to ruin sh*t.
Fast forward to 2012.
Big E's once white, soft, and fuzzy baby blanket has been transformed to the human equivalent of a meth head. It is worn, missing vital parts, and no matter how many times I wash it on the sanitize setting, it remains dingy brown/gray in color.
Today is a homebound day. The weather is cold and rainy. I am taking this opportunity to do as much laundry as humanly possible.
This includes Big E's beloved blanket. Total wash to dry time is about 70 minutes.
Total number of times Big E has asked for his blanket back during this period is about 70.
Seriously, if there were a love contest between me and the blanket, I would lose. Hands down. I am a marginal force in his life compared to his darn, dingy blanket.
I'm already concocting a blanket exit strategy, but I fear it will be many more years before it will be executed.
The elephant is missing his yellow ear and gray body. Big E has worn them away.