"Mommy, can you sew up my BD today?" Jude asked me. It's the same question he's asked every day for three weeks.

I've been meaning to repair the ragged, torn, much-loved shred of blankie Jude has dubbed "BD." I even pulled out my sewing machine and sewing basket. But somehow, there were always more important things to do. So, Jude waited.

Each day he would walk by the sewing machine, finger the blankie, sniff the blankie and then ask me when I was going to fix it. Each day I would say: "Maybe tomorrow."

Today, I realized it had been three weeks.

"Jude, you've lived without BD for three weeks. Don't you think you can give him up now?"

"Nooooooooooo," Jude wailed, instant tears welling up in his eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because I neeeeeeeeeed him!"

"Is BD a boy?" I asked.

"Yes!" Jude said. "And he has feelings!"

"Ah....but, what exactly do you need him for?"

"To hug him. To squeeze him. To smeelllllllll him!"

"I see."

I took the tattered blankie off the sewing machine and examined it. I would have to cut it down if I was going to mend it properly. Jude was watching me closely.

"Jude, I'm going to have to cut this part off in order to fix it. Wouldn't you rather just pack it away in a special box for special things?"

"Pack it in a box and never hold it again?" Jude asked, the tears welling up again.

"Well, you could visit BD."

"But Mommy, I don't care if BD is torn! I love BD! I love him!"

How could I separate a boy from his ragged, precious BD? Like the boy who loved his frayed Velveteen Rabbit, Jude doesn't care what his blankie looks like. He loves dear BD anyway.

So, I trimmed BD under Jude's watchful eye. I pinned the edges as best I could, then fired up the sewing machine and hemmed it afresh. When it was done, we reverently placed BD in the washer on gentle cycle. Jude added the fabric softener.

And after a nice, warm fluffing in the dryer, here is BD reunited with Jude.