The Things That we do for our Children
As I was walking out of my bedroom this morning, I passed my son’s bed. He was sound asleep, and I stopped to look upon him for a moment.
I noticed that he had “Wormie” laying on the bed next to his pillow, mere inches from his head. As I looked at him, I was taken back to a point in time when I was desperately trying to find a replacement Wormie, because his had been lost.
Wormie is not a toy; he is a little pottery worm that my son saw in a local store and fell in love with. It is something that is supposed to help in the garden, though I know not how.
Cameron fell in love with Wormie and carried him everywhere. He and Wormie were best friends. When Wormie became lost, we went into a bit of a panic. How would we ever find another one of these things? My husband had been back to that store; they did not appear to have any more.
One night, after work, I went to that same store and scoured the whole place for another Wormie. Finally, I resorted to asking one of the workers. She knew exactly what I was talking about. They had been about to clearance the item, or possibly get rid of it altogether. She brought out what she had, and I bought every single one of them, which was about eight Wormies.
I brought the items home, and when Cameron went to sleep that night, I slipped one of them into bed with him. When he awoke the next morning, he was so excited to see Wormie, that I knew I had done the right thing. I never told him that this was a different Wormie.
Another item to which he became attached was a fuzzy hat, that I can only describe as a Pimp Hat. It was hot pink on the outside and had some kind of zebra stripe pattern on the inside. He snatched it from one of his sisters and never gave it back.
He wore that thing as often as we let him. I actually have pictures of him riding his Gator outside and wearing the hat. He was so attached that it became worn over time. We knew that we would have to find another hat exactly like that one.
Once again, I looked all over for a hat like that one. I looked online, I asked friends, I looked in every local store. I simply could not find one exactly like that one.
Last summer, when the local fair came to town, my family went as usual. I got my husband to distract Cameron, while I searched tents for a hat like that one.
As luck would have it, I found that exact same hat at the second tent I went through. I was thrilled! I kept it hidden from Cameron for a long time, ’til I could get my husband to sneak it out to the car and hide it in the trunk. My plan was to find the old one and place the new one in its place. I would not tell Cameron; I was hoping he wouldn’t notice.
When we got home, I looked frantically for that old hat. I couldn’t find it anywhere! Finally, I placed it on our bed, hoping that he would notice it and assume it was his same old hat.
My plan worked. He put it on and wore it the same way he always did. I couldn’t have been happier.
Although my husband knew of my plan, he asked Cameron how he liked the new hat that mommy had bought him. I could have smacked him! Cameron, however, simply said he liked it. He had a limited response. That in itself was a relief.
Cameron is attached to one more item, one which I doubt very much I will be able to find an exact match to. When he was a baby, his sister’s father gave him a Barney flat sheet for his bed. I had matching curtains, but we never used them.
That sheet became “Blankie.” Cameron sleeps with it every night. On school mornings, he starts his day covered by it on my bed as he watches television. He has also been known to carry it out in the mornings and cover himself with it as he watches television with his daddy.
There is no other blanket or sheet that can be called “Blankie.” This is the one and only. It is faded and thin in many places. They probably don’t make that pattern anymore. Even if they did, I would have to wash it about 50 times, just so he wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t the right one.
I would do this for him. I would do this because that is the love of a parent for a child. His attachment doesn’t have to make sense; it just has to be important to him. If that is the case, I will search a hundred stores, wash the item numerous times, do whatever I have to do, – all to make that boy smile.