When we were young, my brother carried around his blanket everywhere we went. It wasn’t really a blanket, it was a satin pillowcase. But you would never see my brother separated from his “blankie”.
In fact, even when it was hopelessly frayed and holes throughout, blankie traveled everywhere we went.
And if it temporarily got misplaced (such as when my mom washed it), my brother would cry until his blanket was safely returned.
As adults, we would never get so attached to any of our possessions. Would we?
Of course we do.