Woobie

We don't call them woobies, but there's really no better word to describe blankets.

I don't fight them any longer.  Bedtimes happen and sometimes one blanket isn't in the bed.  We go back and forth: run it in or keep it out to see if sleep happens without it.  In the end, I run it in because I hate when they get out of bed.  Because trust me, getting the blanket would become one more reason the owner jumps out of bed.  I used to hate if the blankets were out of the bedroom, but I don't care any longer.  They're infinitely better to step on than a Lego.  The blankets have a shelf life like everything in childhood.  If I squint really hard, I won't be able to read it's expiration date.  Only the boys can see it.  But I'm not worried about them becoming bedspread junkies.  There's worse things for me to worry about.

Mr Mom (1983) woobie clip.

[Trying to get Kenny to give up his security blanket] 
Jack Butler: I understand that you little guys start out with your woobies and you think they're great... and they are, they are terrific. But pretty soon, a woobie isn't enough. You're out on the street trying to score an electric blanket, or maybe a quilt. And the next thing you know, you're strung out on bedspreads Ken. That's serious.  

This was the third movie scene I remember bawling over.  

1. Wizard of Oz when the witch melts.  I have no clue why.  

2.  E.T. when he's dying.  Everyone knows why.  He was dying, jerks.

3. Mr. Mom woobie scene.  No clue why.  Maybe I knew one day I'd be dealing with two woobies.