Cash & Dad's Seventh Year and a Quarter
When I was little, an ragged orange “blanky” accompanied me to bed every night. This behavior has passed to you, stuffing unnecessary fabric into bed, and unsurprisingly you’ve added flare to the practice.
Putting you to sleep is a ritual of placing a series of not just one but eight blankets in specific order, exacting placement, on top of and tucked around a certain Prince Cash.
If the rite is not perfectly performed, its scrapped and restarted. Again and again, over and over, sometimes two, sometimes five times!
Why do Rachel and I put up with this egregious ending to every evening?
If this ritual is perfectly executed (with an additional 30 second back rub), we are rewarded with at least one child immediately off the playing field! You cocoon up and pass out.
Where for Luke sleep is a place to avoid, Blanketfest properly performed results in Cashy slipping quickly into coddled dreamland. We get peace.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Lately, however, this process has taken a dark turn. After your dream ship is well out to sea, I’ve been retiring to my own bed only to find … my own blanket kidnapped.
You are a Blanket Thief!
Yes, embarrassingly, I still need a blanky. No, I have not matured emotionally beyond your seven years ... and you know it.
I must say, however, my taste in blankets is exquisite.
Only a sensibility refined over forty years of trial and error would sniff out my most recent treasure, a grey and white specimen made of the softest German wool imaginable that I found in Munich during Octoberfest. I take this masterpiece with me everywhere!
Apparently you've either inherited my taste in fabrics or more likely you've got a keen sense what is most cherished by me. Either way, swiping such treasures from me has proven irresistible to you, bringing purpose to your life.
Your diabolical thievery is usually uncovered when it hurts most, when I go to bed AFTER you are asleep. After pounding my fists into my matress, I'm always stuck facing the same tough decision: do I weather a night of fitful sleep because of my missing blanky or do I risk an infiltration into the devil's den?
Despite my training in the navy, my SEAL-like incursions into your room almost always fail. Luke and you are deep, but somehow keenly perceptive sleepers. No matter how careful I am, these adventures always end up with not just one startled kid, but two reanimated demons! Demons who relish a parent getting caught and who will never, ever go back to sleep!
Lately, I’ve taken a new approach to containing your thievery: mirror your dastardly behavior. I too have become a Blanket Thief! I’ve been celebrating the Capitals wonderful season with a sinfully comfy Caps blanket! Its your favorite.