Goodbye, blankie.

A few weeks ago, I noticed your blankie neatly folded on a high shelf in your closet.  "I'm training myself to sleep without it,"  you explained.  
"Why would you want to do that?" I asked.
"Mom!  I'm 8 years old.  I'm too old to have a blankie!" you insisted.

My heart had a twinge of sadness as I looked at my determined girl, yet I sort of thought maybe she'd give up on this exercise in self-control and I'd once again find her in the morning, "rim-rimming" the corner of her blankie to her nose.  

"You know, when I went to college, lots of girls had their blankies, too.  You can keep yours.  It's okay." I'm a super encouraging mom.

A few days later, she came asking about where to find more dirty clothes to add to a load of laundry (the laundry was actually done!).  Why?  Because she was washing her blankie.  Why?  Because she was going to wash it up, fold it up, and put it in storage above the garage.  Sigh.  

She is growing far too fast. I told her that I have a bin of baby things that I've saved in the basement -- I'm not ready for it to go above the garage! -- so she put it there.  I also teased her that I was going to dig it out one night and tuck it into bed with her and poke the corner of it under her nose.  She smiled and shook her head. 

I love, love, love that my littles are growing.  It is incredible and wonderful and challenging.  But let's be honest, a tiny part of me wants them to just stay little forever.