My 39, Day 37.

For months I collected outgrown t-shirts and sports jerseys of theirs, stockpiling them after each load of laundry with plans to one day, do something practical with the stash.

Thanks to Mrs. Bartholme’s 8th grade Home Economics class, I’m decent with a button, and even a hemline.

Heck I even pulled off a purple linen sheath dress for the spring fashion show that year – passable enough to wear to the Mother-Daughter Luncheon we hosted in the middle school cafeteria (though Simplicity dress patterns still give me nightmares).

To sew something as complex as a quilt? Way too intimidating.

So I tip my hat (plus pen plus checkbook) to those skilled and patient enough to make them for a living.

On Christmas morning, my littles will no doubt be the most excited about the one thing they told Santa their little hearts most desired.

Me? I’ll be watching excitedly as they tear into the gift that doesn’t hatch, that didn’t come courtesy of Amazon Prime, that couldn’t be found in any store anywhere.

As they trace their fingers over each of its squares, they’ll remember first preschool friendships, a Mommy and Me date to the Alabama Shakespeare Festival, all manner of camps, birthday parties at McWane, Halloween Carnivals, seeing Thomas the Train at the Heart of Dixie Railroad Museum, and how special that Race for the Cure was when we walked in honor of our E.

And then they’ll move on, going for the TMNT figurines or the Chocolate Pen Set, eager to play with Christmas morning toys.

But when sleepiness sets in, that afternoon and in the days that follow, when they crave nothing more than to curl up in something cozy and dream sweet dreams without care, they’ll reach for their t-shirt quilts – two beautifully repurposed, very special things.

With gratitude to Colleen Crocker of Lagniappe Loveys.