being c to the ozy.


Okay, that’s the lamest title I’ve ever written.

See, I can’t even think straight, I’m so consumed with my love for this blanket.

Josh came home with a pretty silver box with a pretty silver bow last week. It wasn’t my birthday yet and I’m not sure why he thought I would actually wait to open that box until my birthday. Silly.

ThisĀ dream-sentĀ of a blanket was inside and let me tell you, as a girl who spends a lot of time in the wee hours of the night working on the couch, long after the time when the heater has kicked off in the house, this blanket is my new best friend. It’s so soft that you can’t even feel it and I have banned anyone under the age of 30 in our house to use it. I did let Everett put his toes under it with me last night, but I quickly regretted that decision, as I saw him eyeing it suspiciously. Like, he wanted to eat a bag of Cheetos and then wipe his face on it.

Mmmm… Blanket…

(thanks, babe. xo.)

3 Responses to “being c to the ozy.”

  1. Sara Bebich Willy Says:

    I’m just sayin’ if it goes missing, do NOT come looking for it at my house…

  2. Lo Says:

    that’s cute. I don’t blame the lil man. :)

  3. Charity Says:

    Oh man! My daughter Emma has the baby sized one. I think I need a momma sized one!

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