Sometimes a Boy Just Needs His Blankie

My sweet little almost two year old woke up early Sunday morning (at about 1:30 am), hoarsely screaming and thrashing about in his crib.  As I rushed into his room and scooped him up, I tried to comfort his upset little self.  I took him into our room and tried to rock him.  He was in the hyperventilating cry now, and arching his back.  My tired mommy brain kicked into worst case scenario mode:  "Is is an ear infection?"  "Maybe he's got the flu again."  "What if it's appendicitis?"  All he could stutter out as my husband and I rubbed his back and asked him what was wrong was, "Buh, buh, buh..."  Why is it that a perfectly articulate child (mind you he's not quite two, but speaking in sentences) cannot express himself at 1:30 am?  I got up and fetched him a sippy cup with water, hoping to at least soothe his scratchy throat with a drink.  He refused it.  Mike and I looked at each other in tired despiration.

Then a quiet thought came to me:  maybe the "buh" is for blanket.  (Thank you Still Small Voice!)

I quickly walked to his room and retrieved his favorite I Spy blankie.  I handed it to the little guy, and in a few very short minutes, he calmed down.  Rolling onto his tummy, his blanket underneath him, and hand firmly grasping a corner, holding it up to his sweet little face, he fell into a blissful slumber.

Lesson learned.

Sometimes a boy just needs his blankie.

And sometimes a mommy just needs to listen to inspiration instead of letting panic set in.