|Picture (c) Charles Schultz|
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Snuggling and Buggling
I admit that I am a sucker for a soft blanket and have them readily available from the bedroom to the living room to the trunk of my car. One should always be prepared for instant comfort. While I consider myself a collector of fleecy goodness, my son shattered my delusion by informing me, years after the fact, that I had failed in providing him with a proper blanket and pillow when he was in Kindergarten, leaving him to stretch out on nothingness. I stood there, aghast at such a thought.
I was young and believed in following the rules. When the teacher said to send a beach towel for nap time, that is what I sent. Little did I know, other children arrived with furry blankets of joy and chilly pillows designed just for the angle of a five year old child's head resting on a 1 inch thick mat. Had I known, I would have sent fluffy monogrammed blankets and matching pillow. Sadly, I have missed my opportunity to provide comfort and joy and will have to move forward unable to change the past. This would be more troublesome to me except for the fact that I remember the same teacher telling me how my child's eyes would close and sleep quickly wrapped around him like the good blanket he did not have. I suppose when you are tired, you can buggle down just as good under a large towel that smells like home. While the bow haired beauties who rested close to my child stretched out on their fleecy throws, a boy under a beach towel rested just as well.
My daughter, who genetically possesses the need to seek out comfort, traveled like a princess from the day she was born. Her Kindergarten nap time experience included a fleecy Barbie blanket and a pillow fitting of a queen. She was able to snuggle and buggle with the comforts of home. Her socks were seamless. There were no buttons on her back. From the moment she laid down, sleep gently cradled her in comfort.
As I sat on my couch last night, with a pile of blankets around, there were no flailing feet or sleeping children and I wondered if they would remember the joy of snuggling and buggling. About the time I had accepted being alone, my daughter dropped what she was doing and plopped on the pile of blankets next to me. She knew. Some deep memory called to her and I knew then, that both of my children would always remember the magic of snuggling and buggling. My mother was so very right.
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