I have commented, explaining that my children have them, and I encourage it, and will never take them away.
As a child, I had my comforter. It was a satin ribbon edged brushed cotton blanket. He was called "Mackie" and I would run the edge of the satin ribbon under my nose as a comfort. He smelled of warm safe bed, and I loved him. (I have NO idea why I gave a blankie a gender. I have even less idea as to why Mackie was a boy. Go figure.)
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Occasionally, a very smelly Mackie would be taken from me, in order to be washed. I can remember crying one afternoon at the window, watching him flap in the breeze on the washing line, waiting for him to dry.
At the age of eleven it was deemed that having Mackie was too babyish, and he was "lost". That he was lost around the same time that I moved from primary school to secondary school, after much encouragement from my parents to 'put him away', didn't go unnoticed my eleven year old self.
As a replacement comfort, or as an act of rebellion perhaps, my habitual thumb sucking increased. After the dentist put the fear of hell into me about my teeth, I gave up thumb sucking and replaced it with nail biting as my comfort.
And if you look back here, you'll see I have a tendency toward oral fixation.
It makes me wonder - if Mackie had not been "lost", would my subsequent habits of nail biting, smoking and over eating have developed so impressively?
I'd suggest I am an individual that needs
So if my children want their comforters, I shall let them keep them. Far better those comforts than many others...