Bits of memories from Jack’s boyhood cover the latest memory blanket. He wanted a gun, so the camo gun was traced underneath his new cowboy pistol. “My Dad is THE MAN!” was an orange shirt that he wore about every other day ever since he was four. He was actually wearing it two days ago, when I peeled it off of him and told him how fun it would be to be a part of his memory blanket. He was cool with the idea, and I felt a twinge of sadness, cutting his favorite shirt and knowing I would never see it come through the laundry room again. The turtle was a baby shirt he wore in Belize, and the tiger shirt was his favorite shirt when he was two and three, before the other orange shirt became his favorite. The camo pocket and “K” were from another shirt, worn the other days of the week the orange one was not. I exaggerate, but only a little. The bottom strip was from the rim of my favorite baby hat had he had. It only fit him for a very short while.
Jack isn’t so little anymore. He lost his first tooth this week, and was brave and matter-of-fact about pulling it out and tasting blood in his mouth. He’s picking up more and more with reading. He continues to perform death-defying acts on the trampoline, including a stunt which involved jumping from the peach tree and doing a front flip to land on his feet. Yes, I video-taped it, and then I told him he couldn’t do it anymore. He is boy, through and through, and whenever I hear the house shake, it’s usually just Jack, jumping from the top of his bunk onto the floor. Last night he cleared a spot on his wall for his memory blanket. Love that boy!