Connecting Family Through Creative Play: Day 4 - Favorites
In my early years, I had a constant companion named Woobie. It (he) began as a patchwork quilt, but by the end of his life, all the stuffing had been loved out and the fabric had worn thin. I remember disliking the times when my mom snuck my dear friend into the wash because I much preferred his regular smell to that of dryer sheets. My sister had a similar love-object named Weeber, who at some point had to be dismembered, as she kept tripping over him. To my knowledge, bits of these blankets still linger in the hidden recesses of my parents' home.
Since Elijah kicked the binky habit a month or two ago (which was shockingly easy, by the way), I've been wondering if another animal or blanket might jump in to fill the void. When none arose, I began to wonder if I had somehow deprived him of a crucial childhood experience. Well, I needn't have worried. Enter the drum shirt (see above).
To the naked eye, this shirt has nothing to do with drums. I was quite confused myself when he first called it that. Then, on Sunday, I got it. The man who plays the drums at our church, a portly Latino man, always wears a short-sleeved, plaid, button down shirt. This had not gone unnoticed by his number one fan. Thus, Elijah, in his quest to become a real "drummer man", decided that he needed to dress the part.
He's been wearing the shirt for the past three days, although after tonight's spilled fish tacos, I may need to find a way to sneak it into the wash when he's not paying attention. Hopefully, I won't ruin the smell.