After-Hours Throw Blanket Bliss

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, Lisa surprised me with a luxury throw blanket. Plush. Soft. A little heavy. A gorgeous plum color. She gets me. I use throw blankets year-round. I'm the one who swoons over throw blankets at the store. I have to feel each one. Some are just "meh" while others send me into a dreamy state where I moan softly. I could, quite possibly, have a throw blanket addiction. Our kids have followed in my footsteps.

Between the bedroom, living room and home office, there are about 2 dozen throw blankets. On the Pet Pillows. Sofa. Bed. Chair. Love Seat. 

I instantly fell in love with my new throw blanket. It's one of the softest yet. Like a cloud. One afternoon I moved from the home office to the living room to work. Sofa. New blanket. Fresh cup of coffee. I'm good to go.

Then...

Shortly after, I got up to do a few things. Pee. Grab a snack. Check on the kids. Fetch the mail. Fifteen minutes tops. With a snack in hand, I head back to the living room.

There's Sophie. On the sofa where I had been sitting. Under my new blanket. I stop.

"There you are, sweet girl. You gonna share the blanket with Mommy?"

I get the look. It's evident she doesn't want to share the blanket. Or the space where she's lounging. I head back to the home office to continue working.

A few days later, after working at my desk for several hours, I wanted to work in the living room. On the sofa. With my blanket. That's when I discovered THIS!

Back to the home office.

Apparently, the only time I'm allowed to use my new blanket is after-hours. When Lisa and the kids have been tucked in for the evening and fall into their overnight slumber. During those hours I can snuggle underneath one of the most incredible throw blankets I've ever had in my possession. It's covered in fur. It smells like our kids. I'm comforted by that.

My after-hours of new-throw-blanket-bliss reminds me of the confessions I hear from Moms of human kids...like hidden candy being enjoyed after the human kids go to bed. Or maybe a "quickie" in the garage while the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets are baking in the oven. Stuff like that.

Beyond after-hours, I grab one of their throw blankets. A mutual understanding of sorts. It works.