I have loved them as long as I can remember... those softer-than-soft, vintage handkerchiefs.
I would scour antiqueshops and yard sales searching for just the right ones...pretty, dainty flowers...not too scratchy...perfect for wiping a tear or slight sniffle.
Through the years, I might relinquish one to a special little girl, one like me, with an appreciation for delicate, old things...but that was a rare occasion.
I always keep a freshly laundered hanky in my purse, and at a family get-together not too long ago, the topic of these little kerchiefs came into the conversation.
My sweet sister-in-law, Bonnie, reminded me that they are referred to as "handkersniffs" in the Beatrix Potter book 'The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle'.
Oh, how I love Miss Potter's tales...
Well, Mr. Xavier loves his Grammy's handkersniffs!
He has found that nothing soothes a little boy's runny nose like the soft little kerchief tucked away in her purse.
He holds it up to his nose, inhaling deeply, and expressing with great satisfaction, "It smells so good, Grammy!"
Last night, as he was investigating 'Grammy's Cupboard' ...top to bottom...he came across the book 'In the Nursery' (from the blue My Book House set) and asked me to read a story.
The page fell to "The Little Rooster and the Little Hen."
As I began to read, he was still completely consumed with his play until I came upon a term that peaked his curiosity...
The hen asked the peasant woman if she could make a "handkersniff"
(I replaced the term kerchief for a more familiar word).
He crawled carefully up into the chair as I read...entranced by the story of the handkersniff.
He had used my threadbare hanky throughout the afternoon...reaching for it at each hint of a sniffle.
He was taken with this tale.
Consequently, the story had to be read again, looking and commenting at every illustration.
The poor handkerchief was carried faithfully to bed, providing comfort to his reddened button nose. Another was needed this morning upon his awakening.
In the laundry room, after our breakfast, he assisted in the sorting of the laundry,
and as the bed clothes were being placed in the washer,
I tossed the weary little "sniffs" into the fragranced water.
Upon their removal from the warm dryer, they were folded and have now been tucked away in my purse.
I must begin searching anew for more perfectly soft "handkersniffs."