Every Christmas Santa Claus would sneak into my room and take my blanket, Mummy, away. In the place of my soft and raggedy Mummy would be a blanket identical in shape and size but different in color, feel, and smell. I always cried when my Mummyís were kidnapped by Santa Claus, but eventually made friends with the stiff flannel replacements. When I was eight-years-old, Santa took Mummy and didnít leave a new one. My mother said it was because I was too old for a blanket anymore.
© 2017 Carol Hummel