My son would sleep with a towel all the time, if we’d let him. This started from times of sickness, when we would strip him down to his diaper and wrap him in a towel that could be easily thrown into the washer if he vomited on it. He must have decided it was comforting and wants that comfort in sickness or in health, because after bathtimes, when he gets the towel around him, it ends up on the bed, and consequently, around him the next time he goes to sleep. He’s got one on him right now as he takes his nap.

I hate gingerale. My mother gave it to me whenever I was nauseated, because ginger calms the stomach, and now, it seems like medicine to me and makes me think of throwup.

Isn’t it funny how little things from our childhood form associations that follow us through our life? Long past figuring out how they came about, we still retain them, because they just are what they are, and always will be for us.

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