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Sep 19

Gone blanket gone

Posted on Friday, September 19, 2008 in Family, Rantings

When you were a snapper you had a blanket, or a favourite toy or teddybear or something, didn’t you? I bet you still have it now, don’t you? It’s okay, you can nod… nobody’s looking. Between you and me, I still have my twin Brogeens (Papa Smurf teddies), they have prime position in Puppychild’s teddy hammock and I wouldn’t throw them out for a gazillion yeyos. Puppychild herself chose to go down the blanket road – she fell in love with her Pooh Bear cot blanket from the moment she could focus her big brown eyes on it and now it’s her rock, her talisman, her bestest fwend.

It disappeared today.
Puppychild had been watching me mow the back lawn and had left it in the front garden for a moment and when she returned, it was gone.

I searched everywhere for Blanket while Puppychild mewled but to no avail. I interviewed the other children and the smallest one cracked immediately. He pointed down the road and said something like ‘idown dere!’ so I walked. I searched every nook and gatepost, walked down the hill to the lower road in vain and returned, broken. My nemesis,let’s call him Chucky, wandered into view and looked at me… he smiled slyly and turned away.

This particular four-year-old is hateful… he’s half-devil half-child and has the eyes of a gang lord with the foulest mouth I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear in my life; Dennis Leary himself would cringe to hear it. He likes to stand in front of my car and prevent me from getting into my driveway for as long as he can get away with. He pisses on lampposts and throws soil in through my open sitting room window and kicks my dog and his mother thinks he’s the most amazing little fucker the planet has ever been blessed with.

Kids are like farts… you can barely tolerate your own. This, though? This is ridiculous.

I interrogated him while under the watchful eye of the curtain-twitchers but all I got was;
“Look I’m tellin’ the twoot, okay? Fuck’n stop ask’n me!” he turned away and continued – “Fah bitch.” I crouched down beside him and his industrious hole-digging and quietly spoke to him;
“Okay, kid, I’m not angry, I wouldn’t be cross if you told me the truth, because I’d be so glad to have the blanket back. I really love that blanket. If you change your mind later, you know where I am.” We both stood up and as I turned to leave, felt a tear-inducing sharp blow to my right calf… the little fucker had kicked me.

“Heheh it’s up on de roof!! Heheheeehee!!! Over dere on dat one!”

I didn’t do it. I wanted to, but I didn’t.  I walked away.

I didn’t say anything to his mother because she wasn’t there. Anyway it’s very difficult to tell somebody that their little angel is the devil incarnate, so instead I climbed to the highest wall at the back of the estate and peered down over the rooftops. What an enormous waste of time. It’s in a bin somewhere, or stuffed into a sewer grate most likely. It’s gone.

It’s a bath time rule that Blanket must be available in order for hair-brushing pain to be tolerated, so tonight, the loss was harsh. It finally hit home to her that blanket was gone (or ’empty’ as she put it) and she bawled her eyes out. The sad thing is that I used to confiscate it to punish her for major misdemeanours occasionally, so her appeals of
“I’na good girl now mammy, I so sorry, can I’blanket? I’na good girl.” stung me like a swarm of guilt wasps. I hugged her and waited with her while she fell asleep, but she couldn’t. She wailed long into the night and is finally in a light sleep with intermittent yelps thrown in.

I won’t say here what I’d like to do to this Chucky kid because I’d go straight to the appendix of hell for writing it down. Let’s just say it involves a roll of rusty barbed wire and a tub of boiling vinegar and leave it at that, eh?

I hate this place.

Bring on the comments

  1. Baino says:

    Oh I feel her pain. I had one of my grandpa’s old string vests affectionately named ‘tatty blanket’. My mother threw it away when I was 7 and holidaying with my aunt. Actually, I suspect she washed it and it fell apart! As for the little bastard . . . I’ll hold him down while you do your best!

  2. downsdad says:

    ohthissoundslikemorethanonekidlostblankie!
    I projected and was there even before you’d finished the thought. What a little BASTARD! Poor little baby and WHAT A LITTLE BASTARD! Your patience is admirable, and a place awaits you on Big J’s right hand etc, but WHAT A LITTLE BASTARD! My little man in the middle of three would be exactly the same. Blankie and he form a bond that no therapist will unpick. Only ow at three and a half does he finally allow the washing machine to do its very necessary job. I hope it turns up soon, and I’ll be praying for a swift resolution. ‘I’n a good girl’ is pure heartbreak.

  3. Aww…poor Puppychild. I remember her clinging to it, when I was there. I still have my teddy bear from when I was knee high to a grasshopper. Go o’er there and biatch slap the mother for siring the spawn of Satan. :)

    I hope her blankey turns up.

  4. Maureen says:

    What a ROTTEN kid. So sorry your Puppychild has to suffer the loss of her much loved blankie. I don’t know if it would fill the void, but I’d love to send her a Pooh blanket from here.

  5. Ah, poor little -un (yours, not the hateful kid), that’s a hard lesson to go through. My toddler has a little coat, well, body warmer. It’s white and purple and is known as “little purple coat”. Historically it was essential at almost all times and especially at night.The shell is nylon and she rubs it between her fingers in the same way people rub the tags on clothes (or blankeys). I understand the need for the long snugs for your little one, give her one from all of us too.

    Never had one myself, my early existence was … transitory. A friend of my wifes still has a small square of her blankey. Apprrently it get’s pulled out for a rub when she is upset.

  6. What a little *inset profanity here*

    D’you reckon if you said it to his mum that she might be able to wrangle the truth from him? Or perhaps mention the next time he’s kicking your leg/the dog/throwing dirt that there’s a large cash/sweet/toy reward if Pooh turns up

    My ‘blankie’ or equivalent when i was a nipper was books.Yeah books, i’ve been told i’d howl like a banshee and if i was put in my playpen with a pile of books you wouldn’t hear a peep. Go figure.

    I hope the blanket finds it’s way back to Puppychild

  7. Oh can I kill him…. the unmitigated little twerp!
    I’m sure he’s “confused” and “hurting” and whatever to make him go out and torture others, but really…. how could he!!
    I second @Baino in the offer to hold him down, the little sh1t.

    My nephew Sean has Mr Bear, I bought him Mr Bear when he was 6weeks old. Mr Bear was bigger than him, its a bear head and arms but a blankie “body”. He never goes anywhere without Mr Bear and Mr Bear can always be used to get to the heart of the matter. Whenever there is a problem and Sean wont tell you whats going on, you can be sure that through the medium of Mr Bear we can sort it.

    Recently his father has been working on stopping him having Mr Bear, and he wanders the house like a child bereft. He wants and needs Mr Bear. Mum likened it to watching someone giving up the cigarettes. But at least he is still allowed it at night.

    I really feel for poor little puppychild, and I’ll be sending her good thoughts. Would blanket be even _somewhat_ replaceable?
    Little chicken… :(

  8. K8 says:

    Baino; I bet Tatty blanket smelled absolutely gorgeous to mini-Baino :) Might ask Grandad to donate an old sock!

    Downsdad; Thanks for the empathetic aggression! It’s surprisingly comforting – I’m hoping there’s something to this whole ‘malediction’ theory ;)

    Jefferson; I hope it does too! I think the loss has hit me harder than it has Puppychild :( I can’t bear to think of it being rained on!

    Maureen; Aww thanks :) It has to be THAT blanket though. I probably should have cut it in half a long time ago for this very occasion in hindsight.

    Thriftcriminal; Puppychild’s the same… it’s not the blanket itself so much as the label attached to it.. it was rubbed to bits but had a fair bit of mileage left. I must confess to snuggling once or twice meself in bad moments!

    Green of Eye; It’s funny, but a monetary reward was the first suggestion my own mum had – I hadn’t considered that, it’s the first thing I’ll be trying when I see the little prick later. Apparently I was a sucker for books as a babby too!!!

    Elfinamsterdam; The child has no emotional scars, he’s spoiled rotten and babied at every opportunity… he’s just, as Jefferson says… ‘the spawn of Satan’. I suppose we would have had to wean her off the blanket sooner or later anyway so it solves that problem, but I would so have loved to have kept it!! Thanks for the good thoughts… she’s in a funny mood today and that might just help :)

  9. Maxi Cane says:

    I grew up with a little prick like that. He used to do some pretty fucked up shit and place the blame on me like that kid in Stand by Me. So I’ve no problem in describing what I’d do to him, I’m probably on my way to the Ryanair desk to pick up a one way ticket to hell when I kick it anyway. Here goes:

    Start by telling him that his use of bad language is only because it’s all he hears form his mother when she’s polished off her second bottle of scotch. Apparently the bottle she’d consume everyday while expecting didn’t quite finish him off.
    Then go on to say that he’ll probably end up giving hand jobs to the bigger boys in school just to fit in because he’ll have no friends his own age.
    Finish off by telling him that the only way he’ll ever get laid in adult life is to pay a crack whore who has to have a bottle of gin before breakfast to stop the shakes – bringing his life full circle Lion King style.

    He’ll then look back on it as the day someone told him so.

    If that doesn’t work, abduct him, drive down a country lane let him out and drive off leaving him yelping after the car as you drive off feeling more invigorated that you’ve ever done before.

    Puppychild will find something else to give her strength in life’s little trials – kids always do.

  10. K8 says:

    hehe – love it.

    Strangely this abomination is the most popular child on the block. It’s a regular site… him bashing the plastic brains out of Fifi, the dolly belonging to the other wee lass on our road while she cries in desperation and the other kids stand around in a circle laughing.

    When I move out of here, I’m hiring an F14 jet and I’m bombing that hell-hole, warning only a select few first.

    As for Chucky, forest desertion is too good, he’d find his way back or pull a Lord of the Flies. Nah… he gets the concrete block treatment. Glug glug glug.

  11. Nick his parents sky dish and see how they fucking like it.

  12. K8 says:

    Xbox4NappyRash; Absolutely spiffing idea!!! Probably where he’s learning his dastardly ways in the first place.

  13. TheChrisD says:

    * Baby Bear reads in horror, then goes into corner and sits there looking extremely scared *

    If I was in that same situation with that kid, I’d probably have given him a right bashing.
    Then I’d more than likely be writing this from a eeePC I snuck into prison in one of my body cavities, stealing the wireless signal the coppers use while they drive aimlessly around town with the sirens on just so they don’t have to deal with the traffic.

    Little git…

  14. Probably where he’s learning his dastardly ways in the first place.

    no where else, and don’t doubt it!

  15. K8 says:

    The Chris D; It would probably be pointless anyway… I get the impression that you could run over this kid with a cement flattener and he’d come back to life regardless. I might try lifting him by the nostrils later on if I get a moment alone with him during coming interrogations. That sounds like it could be satisfying.

    Xbox4NappyRash; It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if his mother lets him play Grand Theft Auto. I know that a lot of it is learned from parents and neighbours though. They’re a colourful bunch.

  16. Deborah says:

    OMG – What a little fucker. Ugh.

    But can you send him over here. I’ve got two I’d love to get rid of and a soother as well! ;-)

  17. Natalie says:

    OMG I actually feel physically sick reading this…poor Puppychild…the description of that kid…I dunno makes me want to want to want to…if I say it I might get arrested…

  18. Kate says:

    Gah. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest in the entire family’s armpits.

    My daughter has Larry the Monkey. She is 8, and still sleeps with him, though she can leave the house without him now. Once we realized that he was The One, we wandered back to the store with plans to buy another and rotate them through, so both would receive wear-and-tear and smell right, and we’d have a backup in case of emergency.

    But clearly, even though we purchased Larry at a very large chain store, immediately after our purchase they cleared the shelves, burned down the factory and killed all the workers. Because there are no more Larrys to be found. Anywhere.

    We’ve been as strict as possible about keeping Larry confined to home, or in constant check when traveling, and my fears of losing him are less now that she’s not *quite* so dependent on him. Because, ugh. The comfort item. There’s already a dearth of comfort in the world.

  19. stipes says:

    thats the same little fucker who tried to get Maxi the other day in the supermaket

  20. jen says:

    What a little shit. Seriously, what’s going on his his homelife that’s made him like that? Or is he just the devil incarnate?

    My brother used to have a yellow blanket he couldn’t live without. Came to the point where he had to toddle off to school and he clearly couldn’t take it with him ‘cos the other kids would kick the crap out of him – so Mum cut off the corner for him to stick in his pocket. You think he’d scream the place down about this desecration but no, apparently this made perfect sense and worked a treat.

  21. Pay some other kids clod hard chocolate to smack him about? Spread a rumour among the other kids that he wets the bed? Or that he likes to smell dogs butts?

  22. What a horrible child. Cling onto the fact that you’re moving soon.

    Poor Puppychild though. I can imagine how she feels. I had – still have, actually – a rabbit like her blanket. She’s called Little White, and I never let her out of my sight when I was a kid. My parents started to get worried so they bought a replacement (New White), partly to ween me off Little White, and partly in case anything happened to her, but she wasn’t the same, and to this day she looks like a white rabbit wearing an orange dress, whereas Little White (who had a yellow dress anyway), has no fur left, one eye and huge holes in her dress and ears: she was loved. When I was about seven I decided to be grown up and not take Little White on our caravan holiday… by the first night I was distraught… it ruined the whole holiday and I never travelled without her again until I was about fifteen. My sympathies to Puppychild.

  23. Medbh says:

    You have to kill him with kindness, K8. Even if he’s a rotten little fucker, he’s still only a boy who needs adults to model proper behaviour. I bet he secretly wishes that his own mum cared as much about him.

  24. K8 says:

    Deborah; Nah… soothers and blankets can be cashed in like insurance policies. You just pretend that it got stolen or burned out, but hide the evidence well, like in a big suitcase in the attic thus reaping the benefits. The longer you leave them up there, the sweeter the surprise later on :)

    Natalie; Write it down on a post-it note and then eat it. That’s what I did.

    Kate; Larry’s an alien!!! I just watched The Last Mimsy last week… mad. Maybe that’s why he’s so rare?

    Stipes; That’s what this kid is… a mini Tony Montana. Exactly.

    Jen; That’s been suggeted by TAT but I recoiled at the idea of cutting it! I’m just as bad. His answer was to cut it in half and then sew a zip onto the pieces so that you can detach one half to wash the other! That’s just a ballache.

    Thriftcriminal; You know? Those are excellent ideas… I might need them in case there’s a Chucky in the new place but as for this one, I couldn’t give two shits. I just run over his toys every now and then.

    Jenny; You have a velveteen rabbit :) I was a sucker for stories like that. You reminded me of a white rabbit this lady called Maybe once knitted for me to comfort me on the loss of my other (sadly passed) Brogeen.

    Medbh; This is what I don’t understand… his mother spoils him and seems genuinely ignorant to all his wrong-doings because she dotes on him on every opportunity but can’t seem to hear the barrage of filthy language out of the little fucker. He has plenty of father-figures to keep him straight but he’s just errant. A bad egg, as it woz. I just ignore it. Maybe an effigy would help…

  25. […] hospital took it upon herself to decide that now was the time my five-year-old must grow out of her comfort blanket, see.  So, it went in the bin.  I thought it would have been a proverbial bin, but it […]

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