The words “special blankie” may conjure images of Linus from the Peanuts to you.  But for me, they are something full of good memories.

Each of the wild boys began life wrapped in handknit blankets.  My oldest and middle sons were given theirs by his Grandma Penny after it was made by an especially kind woman I’d known my entire childhood through adulthood as “Grandma N.”

My oldest has been so attached to his blanket that he still slept with it while he was enjoying “older childhood” (and will likely be upset that I mentioned it but hopefully will forgive me).

My middle wild boy had two special blankies – one made by Grandma N and one purchased by his paternal grandmother.  He, his binkie, and his “special blankies” were inseparable as they weathered infancy.  As he grew up, he covered himself with Grandma N’s and wore holes so big in the one from his paternal grandma that I had to take it away in fear he’d get tangled in it.

My ginger wild boy spent the first 1.5 years of his life wrapped in a blanket hand knit by my grandmother.  Grandma N had passed before he was born (a sad loss for the world. ..she was truly a remarkable woman) and I turned to Grandma L who gladly helped.

Though all three eventually outgrew the attachment to their “special blankies,” I keep each tucked away.  The sight and touch of them reminds me of so many days and sooooo many long nights.

Fast forward to now…

It was late last week when I realized in all of this chaos Marshall didn’t have a “special blankie.”   I, of course, panicked and frantically turned to Michael.  His mom (Marshall’s grandma) is fortunately (and luckily and gratefully) skilled in this department. Just days later, she gave us this:

I could have cried.  And was again rendered speechless in this huge wave of gratitude, surprise, and relief.

Thank you sooo much, Grandma Martha, for pulling off what I’ll forever remember as “The Special Blankie Extraordinare.”