Max never had a blankie when he was little, or a stuffed animal he particularly adored, or any of those comfort objects tots cling to. This used to worry me; I wasn't sure what it indicated, but I thought it was troublesome. Back then, I used to see so many things as signs that something wasn't right. Poor Max could have burped and I would have been concerned.
It was the anxiety about the effects of his stroke, and the doctors who'd made me think that so much was going to be "wrong" with him. It took me a long time to look for what was right—and there was much of that. It took me even longer to stop looking for "wrong" and "right" and just accept Max as he was.
These days, Max is making up for lost time in the comfort object department. Most recently, he has been going everywhere with a purple Halloween pail. He "borrowed" it from my friend's kid last year, then pulled it out a few weeks ago. It comes out with us a lot.
The purple pail, though, pales in comparison to Max's other current object of affection: a gigantic purple pasta bowl. We took the kids to one of those paint-your-own-pottery places a few weeks ago, and helped him paint an entire bowl in purple. Things got a little touchy because he only likes royal purple, and the paint went on too light for his taste even though it was going to turn royal purple in the kiln. He was dubious until the day we went to get the finished plate, and it was gloriously purple. It's sat on our table ever since. He doesn't want to eat out of it—nooooo, he just likes to gaze upon its purple glory.
Last Sunday, Max insisted on taking it everywhere. It rode around in the car with us, along with a white cup he had colored purple. When we took a hike, the cup and bowl accompanied us, too. Max wouldn't have it any other way.
I am sure hoping he gets past the purple bowl before winter vacation, when we will probably be flying somewhere.
What objects are your kids attached to these days?
