It seemed like a typical laundry day - collecting, assorting and then retrieving articles of clothing in and out of the washer and dryer machines.
But I never thought I'd get sentimental.
While folding A.R's laundry, I came across his beloved Winnie-The-Pooh baby blanket. I held it briefly, reminiscing how I used to sing to him, and how I'd tuck him in his crib.
Oh, those were the days!
As I continued to fold the rest of his clothes, it suddenly occurred to me that my son is now ten years old, and still sleeping with his baby blanket!
Huh? How can this be?
Images of Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang danced in my head. Particularly, Linus.
So, instead of placing his favourite comforter back on his bed, I hid it in his drawer, hoping he wouldn't take notice.
I was wrong.
Before bedtime, there was such a kerfuffle upstairs. A.R came down and asked, "Mommy, where's my blanket?"
I smiled, and said, "Honey, you're ten years old now. Do you need to sleep with it?"
A.R laughed sheepishly but the look on his face said it all.
"It's in your drawer."
I guess my plan to sever ties between boy and blanket was futile.
Perhaps, I should let him grow out of it on his own. If not, I still have three more years to think of a better plan.