Bu Banket

Bronwyn with her bu banket.

I am curled up around her, as I try to coax her to bed.  It has been a long day; 11th annual pumpkin carving party, 25 pumpkins to carve, family and food packed in the house and one little girl way over tired. All around her are the things that make little girls so wonderful, a bedroom messy with stuffies, barbies, colouring books and the one thing that means the most to her in the entire world; bu banket. 

It was my first attempt at teaching myself crochet, it isn't really blue, rather a mishmash of wool that I bought when I was learning about tension, different wools and how to join them.  It's rather ugly, misshapen and permanently dirty.  She would not be without it.  We keep an eye out for it, knowing that to hit bedtime without it would mean tears and a protracted bedtime routine that would be painful for everyone. 

Here we are, the nightlight casts soft shadows on the butter walls, and she lies beside me with her bu banket threaded between her fingers.  She moves her fingers in and out of the crochet slowly soothing herself to sleep.  She never had a soother, I guess that this is what the bu banket is.

Her birthday is Monday, and I know that her babyhood is slipping away.  Tonight she needs me, not to read a book, not to help her into her pjs but to just lie there, quietly while she wraps her hands around her bu banket and drifts of to dreamland.