Archive for June, 2012


June 13, 2012

Dear Roman,

Anyone who knows you well knows that you have something named a “Tag” which is really a blanket that you have not been able to live without for your entire life. Long ago you named it “tag” because the blanket had a slik tag on the end that you loved to rub and rub as you fell asleep. Tag absolutely had to be in bed with you or there was no way you’d fall asleep. On trips I’d triple check the suitcase to make sure Tag was packed. On the rare occasion we were able to sneak Tag into the wash we definitely had to make sure it was clean and ready before bedtime. Awhile back the tag on “Tag” fell off and I was fully prepared to sew it back on, but you were okay with it. You still loved and accepted your blanket and continued to need it for security every time you hopped into bed.

Then tonight, while struggling to fall asleep you came downstairs and asked me for a bandaid. Apparently you needed it for your elbow. Then you asked me to carry you back to bed. So I did seeing that you needed me to tuck you in again. You gave me a big hug and thanked me for coming in, then you asked me to tell you a story and sing a song- all signs that something was up because usually you’re pretty good at getting yourself to sleep. After a story, a song, a back rub, you said, “Mom, get tag out of my bed.” Then you paused and said, “but put him somewhere I can reach in case I need him.” I had wondered when this was going to happen. When the day would come that you’d start weaning yourself from your security blanket. All those years you were┬áinseparable┬áit was hard to imagine. But at this moment you were testing the waters and trying to part ways. So I calmly said, “okay I’ll just put him on the top bunk of your bed” and left it at that. But you were not done with our conversation. You explained to me that big kids don’t have Tags and you named every single kid in your class and told me none of them had Tags. At that point I figured I could try and convince you that those kids did have a “Tag” or something similar, but instead I just said something like it doesn’t matter and if you want to sleep with a blanket then that’s all that counts. I even told you that Dad and myself and Charlotte all love you and your Tag. But in the moment you really needed to feel bigger so you reiterated that “Tag” needed to stay on the top bunk.

Now I fully expect you to go up and get your blanket at some point throughout this night. I envision you coming down the stairs tomorrow morning with tag in tow just as you do every single morning. But I also feel like those moments are numbered. Because clearly tonight was the first step for you toward becoming a kid who no longer has a “Tag.”

sniff sniff.