Part of her attachment with this blanket is that she loves the smell of it - because it smells like her. She calls it her "smelly blanket." I call it her "stinky blanket" and I threaten often to take it and get my smell all over it so it will no longer smell like her. Oh yeah, I'm a good father.
Yesterday morning as I was leaving for work, I noticed the smelly blanket laying in a dining room chair, away from my daughter. She was in the living room watching cartoons. After a few minutes of that, she would get up and run into the dining room to smell her blanket. Then she would run back in to watch cartoons, all the while laughing at what she was doing.
Yes it was cute. Yes it made me laugh. And yes, it made me think exactly of Frank Booth huffing his gas. If at any time she orders a Pabst Blue Ribbon and says "don't toast to my health, toast to my fuck" I'm in a whole lotta trouble.