Nana Blanket

Margaret is a child who understands the importance of keeping on the good side of people.

Now most of you, who have met my mother, and think that she’s a kind, sweet, wonderful person, might not see the importance of keeping on her good side.

And I say that that is because most of you have not crossed her.  I mean, she spends most of her time being nice and kind and sweet and wonderful, and collecting waifs and strays and taking them to church and feeding them and looking after her grandchildren.

But every so often – not very often, but occasionally – when someone has done something terrible,* my mother can transform herself into a giant, fire-breathing, three-headed dragon. 

Margaret, though she has never seen this occur, is a very perceptive child, and so no doubt understands the peril in which she stands if she were to go into bad umpiring.  Or neglect to express proper appreciation for presents that her Nana sent her.

Which brings us, in a roundabout and long-winded sort of a way, to the subject of this post:  Margaret’s Nana blanket.

For Christmas, my mother knitted her fingers to the bone, and made each of us a blanket.**  They are really nice.  Margaret, in particular, demands hers every night.***  (Incidentally, as another additional part of this story, I got a comfy rocking chair for Christmas.  This will help those of you who keep track of what furniture belongs in our living room.  I know most of you do that.  Because we’re that interesting).

She likes to have her Nana blanket and rock.  And she likes to have her daddy sit with her and read her a book about the steps that the bunny from Pat the Bunny takes as he prepares for bed.

And then she likes to come to the couch, read Goodnight Moon with both of us, and be carried off to bed with her twenty-seven books, her four favored stuffed animals, and now her Nana blanket.

Also, if you pay attention to the sleepers, you can see that these pictures were taken on different nights, so although I do a reasonable amount of embellishment in these posts – I don’t, for example, think that Margaret actually knows the etymology of the word manger – I have not embellished this narrative at all.****

*If, for example, an umpire were to have the temerity to call a third strike on Ben.  You know, offenses of that magnitude.

** Which we each appreciate greatly, although I hold that Leo’s is proportionally larger than mine.  But I like to complain.  Besides, mine matches Margaret’s, which is cooler than being larger.  So humph.

***Leo uses his every night too, though he hasn’t gotten into the habit of screaming  “Nana blanket! Nana blanket” before bed.  He might, however, were we to arrange his life so that he had no control over his bedding.  It would be an interesting experience.

****Well, I may have exaggerated a little about the whole transforming into a dragon thing, but not much.