Baby

Q n' Baby...the early days...

Q has had his "baby" since he was 18 months old.  He met baby while were visiting my in-laws.  They were moving, had gone through some old boxes and found a blanket that my ex's mother had made for him when he was little.  "If you want it, you can have it," they said.  "Otherwise, we're just going to throw it out."  Well, I was still enchanted with my ex at this point, so the thought of throwing out a piece of his history tore at my heartstrings.  Q must have felt the same, because he took one look at it, grabbed it, and never let it go.  It's been a love affair the likes of which I've never experienced.  When a lost baby was found, Q exclaimed with delight, "Oh, Bay-bee!!"

He named her "Baby."  He gave 'her' a gender...she's a she...obviously.  Baby is unlike any other blankie I have ever seen.   She's an 8 feet by 6 feet, two sided corduroy patchwork quilt.  She weighs about 15lbs.  And she's over 40 years old.  Baby has been with us everywhere.  Airplane rides to Hawaii, road trips to Calgary, the doctor, walks to the park, the grocery store.  No bed time was complete without the 3 B's: baby, bobo (bottle) and a book.  After Q's dad and I separated, we had to make sure that baby always came with Q. 

After a few years, baby became a little tattered, especially the corners (Q loved to rub the corners on his face.)  He even had a favourite corner - and he could tell by feeling it in the middle of the night if he had the wrong one - he'd wake up and say, "Momma, find my torner..."

Then came the day baby split in two.  Super convenient, one at mommy's, one at daddy's...no more late night trips to get baby if she was forgotten.  A little sad, too, though, because baby was showing her age.  We washed her on the delicate cycle, and then by hand, as each of the little corduroy patches began to fray and fade and fall off. 

Q hasn't slept with baby in two weeks. 

I don't even think he notices. 

It breaks my heart because my baby is growing up.  I know I should probably be relieved that Q doesn't need her anymore, because I know I'd be really worried if he was still 18 and sleeping with baby.  But every little reminder that my baby, my only baby isn't so much a baby anymore. 

Another reminder...

Q has been wishing for loose teeth since he was 3.  Every few months he'd say he had a loose tooth, so I'd stick my finger in his mouth and wiggle all his teeth and they'd all be safe and snug and not the least bit wiggly.  Monday morning, Q woke up and said, "Mommy, I have a loose tooth!"  So, I got the wiggling finger out, and wiggled his bottom front tooth. 

Loose.

Then the one beside...loose too...

Then the top center ones...loose...and loose...

Four.  Four loose teeth.  Four.  A trip to the dentist last week also confirmed he has his 6 year molars coming in...(which shouldn't be a surprise...I mean he is almost 6...)

But c'mon...four loose baby teeth and a molar?  It's going to change his whole face.  He won't look like my baby anymore.   

What's next? 

Braces?  Dating?  Acne?

Oh, I don't know if I'm ready for this...