Sounds pretty normal, right? Well, eventually that shirt of mine wasn't enough. One day I left my beautiful silk robe where she could see it. It was all over once she touched that thing. "My robe!" she cried. "Soft!" I gave in and let her keep it as a new blanket, excited I could get my shirt back, which was strangely in mint condition (See? She loved it so much she took really good care of it!) The robe was now her favorite thing in life. But then things changed. I started noticing things. My shirts would come up missing. Dan would do laundry, and I'd search for hours for a specific shirt I KNEW was clean, and never find it. Then, my dresses started coming up missing. At some point, I thought I was seriously going crazy. So, I took action. I went into her room, and there it was. THE STASH. My robe had turned into not one or two blankies, but she had NINE articles of my clothing. Dresses, shirts, robes.....I even posted the picture above to prove it. She only has four there. It must've been an off day for her.
I thought I'd begin weening her off my clothes. Cause you know, she can't carry them around forever. And I'm running out. So, yesterday I took about 6 of her "blankies" and put them in the hamper so I could wash them and restore them to their rightful place (my closet). I felt so proud to have outwitted her. She had NO idea I had taken them!! But about 2 hours later, she came to the table for dinner. As she ate, I noticed her left arm clinging onto something. Yep. That's right. She somehow made it to our bedroom, passed the baby proof door knob, & managed to go through our laundry hamper, and pull out the clothes. So, what did I do? Oh yeah baby, I'm smart. I took them and put them right back into the hamper, behind the baby proof door knob, behind the baby proof baby gate, and without her noticing. And guess what she was holding an hour later? Yep :/
I don't know if she'll remember this fetish/obsession later on down the road. I don't know if I'm enabling her to depend too heavily on something. But I do know that she loves her mommy and daddy. And she loves everything about us. She doesn't see our insecurities, our mistakes, our flaws. If she wants to fall asleep smelling daddy on the shirt she's clinging to, or like the way my robe feels next to her, I'm going to let her. Because it won't last forever. And because someday, I'm sure I'll be clinging to her old shirt, and wishing I could smell her on it.