Meet Purple Blankie

If you have kids, then you know. You know how it is when they get attached to something. It almost becomes literally part of them. They throw such a fit when it's not around that you make sure it's in the bag EVERYTIME you go somewhere (no matter how short the trip) and you have to either jump through hoops or be very very sneaky just to be able to clean it.

Lauren has this attachment disorder. It's to "Purple Blankie".

I know what you're thinking. No it's not purple, nor has it ever been purple. Most people have sentimental stories about where their child's favorite blanket came from. I have no clue. It showed up about a year ago (she could have stolen it from another kid somewhere, I really wouldn't be surprised). She loves this blanket. It has been left at restaurants, ran over by a car, dipped in the toilet, almost eaten by a goat (yes, a goat), been buried in the sandbox, been thrown at a duck (in a lake), held out the car window all the way down the highway as I was yelling "DON'T YOU DROP THAT! I WON'T TURN AROUND!". She refuses to sleep if she doesn't have "purple blankie" so I have to be extra sneaky and usually stay up late if I want to attempt to lessen the permanent dirty feet/ corn chips smell out of it. As a mother I have just had to accept the fact that something this loved can be washed and bleached and febreezed every day, but it will always smell and look raggedy.