hen he was four years old, Chris enjoyed a item of blue cloth he took everywhere with him, that they called Boo-Boo. Now 60, a retired teacher, husband and father of three adult children, he still remembers the sense of safety he found when he gently rubbed the soft fabric against his face or between his fingers. “My Boo-Boo supplied enhanced comfort and security I craved. I needed it when camping, similar to I desired my mum with me all the time as i was little,” he admits that.
Shortly before Chris’s first day at school, his mother told him that he couldn’t take his Boo-Boo with him and then he should throw it inside their fire. “I will see it now, the lounge and also the open fire, my mum saying that we needed to throw this Boo-Boo in. I couldn’t contain it any longer, I had to become older. I cannot remember whether I cried this is, Allow me to just notice the anguish. I needed a feeling of loss, an emptiness, without understanding.”
Chris is not going to resent his mother