Cobra took to a silky blanket with tabs on it. When she goes down for a nap, she holds it like a bandit mask, covering her nose and mouth. If you peek underneath her makeshift disguise, you will see that her tongue is darting out and not quite licking, but rather rhythmically poking, the blanket.
Sure--Cobra loves her silky and has trouble getting to sleep if it's not around for some reason; but her attachment is nothing like the overwhelming passion Butterbean has for her blankie.
Butterbean fell under the spell of one of the blankets I mentioned above, a luxuriously soft pink 14"x14" square of long-nap chenille with a silky border, sporting a cute tag that says "Little Giraffe." This quickly became her one and only security device, and God help her parents if for some reason they can't provide it at sleep time.
When Butterbean gets tucked in, she instantly thrashes around until she finds her blanket, clutching it with her arms and legs, and latching her mouth onto it. She chews and sucks on the blanket until she falls asleep and buries her face in it for the rest of the night.
The problem is that all the chewing and sucking leaves the blanket soggy and, after it dries, crusty and malodeorous: thus its name, "Stinky Pinky." After a washing, Stinky Pinky is inoffensive for about two days. After that, you can smell it as soon as you walk into the nursery.
I'm sure you are thinking that we are horrible parents to let our child sleep with a filthy, bacteria-laden rag, and you may be right. But it is nigh-impossible to wash this thing regularly, because Butterbean--still on a two-nap schedule--can not be without it for more than two or three hours at a time. This does not leave enough time to hand wash and dry it, and I can't in good conscience run a load of laundry just for Stinky Pinky while our region is in perpetual draught. We have tried tricking her with a similar blanket, also made by Little Giraffe, while we wash and dry Stinky Pinky by hand, but it just won't do.
So the obvious solution was to buy a replacement. An exact replica.
We started to shop online.
So, how much do you think a 14"x14" swatch of fabric would run? Ten, fifteen bucks, tops? Wrong. TRY 40-60 DOLLARS!!
We kept waiting for the blankets to go on sale, but the lowest price we could find was about forty dollars. So we sucked it up, used the Amazon gift card we got from dumping all our accrued change into the Coinstar machine, and bought a Stinky Pinky replica.
And here's the perfectly predictable part: Butterbean tossed it aside with bitter disdain. "Take it from my sight!" her incredulous sneer said.
We even tried, as awful as this sounds, to rub some of the stench from the original Stinky Pinky onto the replacement. No dice.
We've been trying to break her of the Stinky Pinky habit since yesterday. So far, this had engendered twenty minute bouts of crying before sleep. Not terrible, but a little hard to bear since she has been a great sleeper since she was four months old.
And just moments ago, while Butterbean was supposed to be napping but was wailing with anguish instead, I went to the laundry basket where the original Stinky Pinky is waiting for the next load of wash to go in the machine, and pulled out the pestilent rag with my pincer-grip, keeping it as far from my face as possible. I almost walked up the stairs and tossed it into the crib.
But I resolved to stay strong, for the sake of the kid. The inconsolably grieving kid.