I felt I should have had him sign a medical release form before he left, freeing me from all responsibility should something go wrong. (I am not the best at sewing, the truth is I am not very good at all).

After an hour of skillful work (luck actually), the surgery was a success. My reward — a big smile showing both of his adorable dimples, a hug and a “Thank you Mommy,” that oozed with sincerity.

Now some people may say that Drew is getting too old for a blanket and I should just throw it away. Part of me agrees with that, but then the other part of me remembers wrapping him up in that same blanket and rocking him to sleep.

This blanket has been more than just a source of comfort at night; it has been a super-hero cape, a bandage for wounded stuffed animals and something to have a pretend picnic on.

Maybe I am using the blanket to hold onto something that is out of my control. My son is growing up and I can’t stop that. While I do celebrate each new stage in his life, the truth is, I miss holding him in my lap. I miss having him fall asleep with his head resting on my chest, I miss smelling the powdery fragrance that can only be found on a freshly cleaned baby.

Sure, I can tell him he is too old for a blanket and that it is time for him to grow up, but why? Because I am the adult and I decided he didn’t need it anymore? If you think about it, adults have favourite “blankets” too. — Beliefnet.com