The Smelly Blanket

One of the things that we learned when we brought my daughter home from China is that it's important that she become attached to something. Something other than a parent. Lord knows she's attached to my wife. I'm more hot and cold. Sometimes I'm the best, and other times she doesn't want to have anything to do with me. I figure once the teens set in and she and her mother are at complete odds, that's when I will swoop in and be the stud father. I'll spoil the shit out of her. Oh yeah, it's gonna be great. I'm going to make lots of "coo coo" signs to her about her mother and then I'll take her out for ice cream. I've got it all planned out.

My wife wanted to get her attached to a doll of some kind. What mother doesn't? It's like some unwritten law of parenthood. Like those God awful Sears portraits when they're babies. Those things are awful. They look awful. The backgrounds are awful. And yet everyone gets them taken of their kids. Why? Because it's part of our DNA. Like Moms wanting their daughters to love dolls. Or Barbies. Well, my daughter wouldn't and won't have anything to do with dolls. She'll entertain the idea. Maybe play with them for a few minutes, but nothing long lasting. So we'll be saving several thousand dollars on American Girl dolls and dresses and steamer trunks and whatnot. We brought a red furry blanket with us to China with the hopes that it would be "her" blanket. It's a great blanket. I want to have someone make a larger one for me and I'll carry it everywhere. In client meetings I'll be presenting some work and rubbing the big red furry blanket on my cheek for comfort. But despite it being a great blanket, my daughter wasn't really crazy about it.

But then came the Smelly Blanket. It's not even a blanket, it's a comforter. It's a comforter in a blanket cover that zips at the top. I can't even remember when we got it. Or where we got it. As far as I know, the damn thing dropped out of the sky and appeared on my daughter's bed. But she loves it. It's a scary love. She calls it her Smelly Blanket because she says it smells like her. I think it smells like the floor and the dog with maybe a slight Macaroni and Cheese aftertaste. Evidently my daughter really likes the way she smells, or she needs to constantly remind herself of what she smells like because she is always smelling that blanket. The blanket could be across the room and my daughter would run over to it just to get a snort. Yes, it's like cocaine.

What's weird is that my daughter is aware of the blanket at all times. A few times she has fallen asleep in the car and I have brought her and smelly up to our bed to change her into her pajamas and then to move her to her bed. While I'm doing this, she is sound asleep. Like dead weight. But then when I pick her up to move her to her bed, her arm comes out and she grabs that smelly blanket to take it with her. It's freaky.

When she comes home from school, the first thing she does is run up to her room to go see Smelly. It's like seeing an old friend. Only it's a blanket. A blanket that she saw three hours ago. She giggles and talks to it. It's cute in a way that might keep you up all night.

My son had a stuffed monkey that he loved. And still loves. His name is "boo." But it ranks about a 3 compared to the scary love my daughter has for her Smelly.

This is a story I transcribed for her about her blanket.

MY SMELLY BLANKET

I really like my blanket. And my Mom really loves me. I’m proud of her. And so much that my Smelly and Mom really loves me so. And Daddy loves me. And all the people around me love me. And Smelly Blanket is part of our family. And all the friends that work together. And for all the family members we ever met. And Smelly will always be a part of our family. And he always smells like my blanket. You know that Smelly Blanket is my favorite. And he always knows what he smells like. And he loves me so much. Smelly does not know no matter what. And it smells like Smelly every time. When he looks at me, he thinks he is the most beautiful blanket ever.

The End