Binkit and you'll miss it

It's official: babygirl has bonded with her binkit.

For awhile, we would have bet cash money that her first comfort object would be the pink knitted blanket we were using to cover her up at bedtime. But that blanket grew a good-sized hole in the middle, so we stopped using it.

The binkit of choice turned out to be a gift from Grandma Deets, a fuzzy, polka-dotted pink blanket with a brown satin fringe. The thing is exquisitely soft, which explains why the kid has been spending so much time with her head buried in it. I would too, if I didn't think people at work would look at me funny.

She's come up with at least three binkit games that I know of:

• Leave binkit on floor. Crawl away a short distance. Then come charging back for a headlong cuddle! Repeat until distracted.
  
• Pull binkit over head. Wait for parent to ask, "Where's Emilie? Where is that Emilie?" Swiftly pull down binkit for the static-haired reveal! Repeat until distracted.
• Have parent lay out binkit. Crawl on. Bend down and place head on binkit like a Muslim doing the daily prayer ritual! Repeat until distracted.
  

This sort of behaviour has prompted us to consider the repercussions should the binkit get lost or damaged beyond repair. So not long ago, I ran out and bought two more just like it. (Chalk one up for mass production.)

So far, the ruse is working. Binkit 1, the original, is her bedtime and morning companion. Binkit 2 stays at the day home for naps, and Binkit 3 is the versatile relief player that can fill in for either of the other two on short notice.

At this rate, I'm guessing Binkit 7 will go in the heirloom chest.