Beedie

My oldest son G, now almost 6 (ah! S-i-x!) has been attached to a special blanket since he was about one year old.  "Beedie", as he lovingly named this blanket, was one that my dear friend Karen's mom Gail had given to me as a baby blanket.  My own mom had spent a great amount of time searching for the "perfect" blanket to give to her first grandbaby.  She found a soft, white blanket with fleece on one side and lined with silk on the other, and gave it to me in hopes that "this" would be the baby's "lovey".

I did try with with that white blanket.  I did.  I would put that in baby G's crib and wrap him in it...
but to no avail.  When G was about a year old, he somehow got a hold of the crocheted blanket made by Gail and that is what became his "Beedie". 

We turned the car around many times for Beedie.  That blanket did get left at a few places, and we had to grasp at a back-up once and found a smaller blanket that was also crocheted that I cleverly named "Baby Beedie".  Baby Beedie did the trick once or twice, especially when the real Beedie started smelling foul and I tried to sneak it into the wash.
When holding his Beedie, G would suck on his tongue, kind of like this:

 (Hospital stay when he was 16 mos old for Bronchialitis.  And yes, that is Beedie.)

Beedie had to be with G from the moment he was awake in the morning, til the moment he went to sleep at night.  Sometimes, when G would be busy and playing, I'd find myself smelling Beedie (is that weird?) because even though it sometimes smelled dirty like it needed a washing, it mostly smelled of my little boy.  It wasn't like he sucked on it or put his boogers on it or anything.  I just liked it's smell.  It calmed me.

Anyhow, about a month ago as I was cleaning garbage out of the back of the van, I noticed Beedie laying on the floor almost pushed under the seat.  I brought it out and I asked G, "How long has your Beedie been in the van?"  G just shrugged, "I don't know". 
"Well, didn't you miss him?  Don't you like sleeping with him anymore?"
I'm not sure I got an answer.

The other night, after tucking G into bed, I pulled his door closed behind me and as I turned to come up the stairs, there was Beedie, laying in a pile in the middle of the downstairs family room. 

Why hadn't G asked for it tonight?  Why hadn't he asked for his Beedie for a really long, long time?

I picked up Beedie, and I smelled it.  I tried not to be sad. 

I opened G's door and his head immediately shot up, as he wasn't expecting me back in so soon.

"What?"  he asked. 

"Here", I said, and I tossed Beedie at him.

I saw him smile and pull his Beedie up to his face.