When I was pregnant with Cole (and even before I was pregnant), I made SO MANY blankets. Crocheted blankets, quilted blankets, taggie blankets, silky minky blankets. All sizes, all shapes, all fabrics. I loved the idea of Cole getting attached to a special "lovey" to help him feel more secure. So I made blankets - beautiful (if I do say so myself) blankets with hours of labor put into them.
Then we had Cole. And Cole needed to be swaddled - lo and behold, none of the HUNDREDS of blankets I made worked for swaddling. So at about 2am one morning, in the midst of bleary-eyed sleep deprivation, I took an old holey jersey flat sheet and chopped it into four ratty pieces to swaddle Cole with.
Turns out, they were perfect. They were just the right size, sorta stretchy but not too flimsy, and the perfect weight for all seasons.
But now, even though we haven't swaddled Cole to sleep in months, he still loves his "blanky". The ratty, holey, blue jersey sheet-reject that is not even a little bit cute. He passes up all those adorable (and time-intensive) blankys I made for him and chooses to get attached to the cut-up sheet with unfinished edges.
All that matters is that he's happy, right?
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