Money, jewelry, puppies, lovers—most people rank these items high on their lists of “My Favorite Thing.” But not me. My favorite item in the world is “Beibei.” I can’t live without her; she’s as important as oxygen to me.
Beibei is my blanket, white and soft and sweet-smelling. When I touch Bei-Bei, it’s like touching clothes fresh from the dryer, warm, fluffy, scented with “Snuggle.” Beibei has always seemed to have a magic power that attracts and soothes me: When I was born, my parents covered me with her to quiet my crying. They say I would tuck my chin into Beibei’s folds and grip her corners in my tiny fingers.
Even now, I find it almost impossible to sleep without Beibei. One time, I forgot to take Beibei when I traveled to Australia. Every night was a nightmare. I didn’t enjoy that trip.
I love Beibei’s smell; it keeps me calm and happy. But my family hates Beibei’s smell; it’s like sweaty socks to them. When they smell her, they throw her across the room. The only person who agrees with me is my brother. He loves Beibei’s smell because he once had a blanket, too. Unfortunately, it fell apart. Sometimes, I share Beibei’s smell with him.
Even though I love the smell, I want my family to accept Beibei. So I decided to wash her. (It took me a week to make this decision.) My mother was so happy and volunteered to help. I had two rules, however. First, Beibei can’t be washed in the washing machine. She needs to be washed by hands or she’ll fall apart. Second, Beibei can’t be thrown into the dryer or she’ll shrink. After Beibei was cleaned, my family finally accepted her. No one throws Beibei away and treats her like a pernicious disease.

Beibei—my blanket—is my favorite item in the world. I can’t live without her. She’s a part of my body. When she hurts, I feel pain, too.