A portrait of my son | once a week |every week | in 2014
Your beloved blanket is well and truly on its way out. I've tried to find resources to fix it but so far I've failed. I'm told it can't be done so I guess the only option is to make you a new one. I'd like to try and make it myself, even though I can't [yet] crochet, so that if [when] you reject it can, at least, remain as a handmade token of love. Even if you don't [won't?] love it. I'll understand if you can't love you new 'Bee'. Afterall, you've lived with and loved this blanket of yours from the day you were born. You love it so much you have embraced the giant hole in the centre and have incorporated it into your relationship with the soft [and smelly] blanket. You wear it as a poncho and run around chasing the cats. You are accepting of the changes this blanket is presenting to you.
Perhaps watching your blanket disappear before your eyes will be a good lesson in loss for you but until then I'll do my best to find something to help keep your relationship with your best friend going strong.
And despite appearances here, you were having fun when I took this photo.