The cat still reeks of skunk. And I just can't let him into a house we are trying to sell. I feel just awful. I've set up his bed, food, and water in the garage, and just spent 45 minutes cuddling him on the patio (so of course now I smell like skunk). But the poor thing. I have a feeling that the cat door in the new house will be a moot point, after this the cat is never, ever going to go outside again. I know I sure wouldn't...
A and C like to play a game they call "puppy." They take turns pretending to be a dog while the other tries to walk the dog, feed the dog, wash the dog, etc. I spend most of the game reminding them that "We will never, ever, have a dog. You know that, right kids?" But in general, I'm a big fan of puppy because it keeps them both happy and playing with each other for long periods of time.
Today puppy took an unexpected turn. C started asking A "Are you going to bite me puppy? Sometime puppies bite you know." I quickly pulled C aside and explained to him that if he kept asking A if she was going to bite him, eventually she probably would. After nodding agreement, back he went to playing puppy. "A, are you going to bite me? Sometimes puppies bite you know..." Seeing where this was headed, I put a premature end to puppy.
But a few hours later, I hear a yelp from the playroom as I am starting yet another load of skunky laundry. "Mommmmyyyyy! A BIT me!" wailed C. "I asked her if she was going to bite me, and then she DID!"
I have to say, I was torn. While A lost her ability to choose the TV show after dinner and a serious talking to about the evils of biting, I really just wanted to shrug my shoulders and tell C that he had it coming to him. I mean, what did he think was going to happen?
Although M might beg to differ, I consider myself pretty minimalist in the sentimental keeping of stuff department. Each child has a small tupperware bin into which I throw things like the first picture of Mommy that C drew, A's birth announcement, and C's first "report card." There are no locks of hair, there are no baby hats or receiving blankets, and almost all of the baby items and toys have gone to various charities or the church nursery.
But tonight I found myself digging through the toy box in A's room because M thought it might smell like skunk. I figured since I was digging through and sniffing for skunk, I might as well clear out the junk and save myself the hassle of moving it. As I sorted through, several items quickly hit the "try to wash" pile. The pink and purple baby blanket Nana knit. The white waffle blanket that was originally C's, but A quickly adopted as her "blue blanket." Baby Ellie, the small stuffed elephant that is sometimes requested as a sleeping companion. "Duckie," the yellow floppy blanket that Auntie Joy sent A for her first birthday. Several other items quickly hit the trash can: the collection of junky Easter bunnies, the rattles that neither of my kids ever actually shook, the wooden shape sorter that cost a fortune but was actually not at all useful as my kids quickly figured out that if you turned the shapes on their side you could shove them into whichever opening you wished.
But there were several items that I saved from the trash can at the last moment. The soft cloth cat book that C adored with a passion from six to eight months and then never looked at again. The pink bunny that made A giggle when she had pneumonia. The broken parts to the mobile that C would stare at for hours (ok, minutes) while I wept on the phone to anyone who would listen to how miserable I was post-partum. I know that someday I will probably discard all of these items. But I couldn't quite do it. Not yet. Not tonight. So instead I will lovingly soak them all in laundry detergent and hope for the best. Because some things are worth saving, at least for a while.
Yep. It had to happen sometime. Dumb cat (who I DO love very much, despite his nickname) got skunked. The worst part? I didn't figure it out until he had come into the house and made himself comfortable for a few hours in the dirty laundry basket in my closet. At least it wasn't my bed, right?
I now have to face getting rid of the skunk smell from both my cat and my house. The laundry, I'm tempted to just toss it. It was pretty much the kids summer PJs and some in need of replacement anyway underwear. Anyone want to come give a cat a bath?
Edited to add a picture of the poor cat getting his third bath of the day...
Note the baby wash in the background. The poor cat now smells like a mix between a skunk and a baby, go figure. Poor, poor General. Not looking so powerful today.
It has been raining here, a lot. And my kids have been climbing the walls, and the tables, and the couches, and the beds. So in the interest of everyone's sanity, we actually ventured out into the backyard and did some puddle jumping in an attempt to burn off some energy.
And the givers of karma rewarded me for allowing my children to cover themselves from head to toe with mud and muck and wet flower goo, as I finally found the source of the water in the basement - poorly installed downspouts. I had gone around early this year and reattached all of the downspouts that had come loose, but of course I did this when it was nice and sunny outside. Today, standing out in the rain trying desperately to take cute pictures of the kids splashing, I started to wonder where exactly all the water in my yard was coming from. And when I set off to investigate, I found that the downspout closest to the water's entry point into the basement was not in fact dumping water at the fence where it was supposed to go, but instead was leaking water all along the foundation.
So I struggled and battled the shrubbery, realigned plastic pieces, made liberal use of duct tape and swore under my breath more than a few times, but the end result was this:
Still not perfect, but much better and I think a trip to Home Depot tomorrow should solve the problem entirely. Plus, the kids were entertained for a good 45 minutes. Say it with me...Chichimama rocks!
Shlupid. I love it. I think I am going to start using it in everyday conversation.
"Man, was that shlupid."
Last night at dinner M said something, or I said something, and then we both chimed in with "There's a blog post for you." And now I have no idea what the gem of an idea I was planning on sharing with y'all might be. Nor can I remember where I left my car keys, or what page I am on in my book, or why there is a stapler in the fridge. And there is something else I am supposed to remember to do, but I can't quite remember what.
Please tell me my brain will someday return to me, please? I feel like 34 is a little too young to be quite so forgetful.
I met a woman at the playground the other day who proudly informed me that she had never once yelled at her child. The child in question was four, almost five. My first reaction was to slink off into a corner and hang my head in shame as I couldn't remember a day when I didn't at least raise my voice, or at the very least shriek "NOOO!" to my children. "I yell too much" I thought to myself. "Even this woman who has never met me before sees that I yell too much." But honestly, when you run to the bathroom to grab a towel to wipe up the milk someone spilled on the floor, then come back ten seconds later to both children about to jump off the dining room table, what's a mom to do?
I started to wonder "Is her child that well behaved that she doesn't need to yell? Maybe I've been going at this all wrong. Maybe if I spoke to my kids in an even tone they wouldn't be prone to jumping off of whatever high, dangerous object they can find. Maybe they would sit quietly when I told them to, and would refrain from gorging each other's eyes out over who gets to hold which Thomas train." Then I began to watch her child. And he wasn't any better behaved than my two. He certainly wasn't any worse, but he wasn't winning any gold stars in the behavior category either. He shoved and pushed, talked back to his mother, and pitched a fit when it was time to go.
I have to say, it made me feel so much better. But I also have to believe that she must be a saint. Because if my child kicked me and bit me on the way out of the playground, there is no way I could remain calm and repeat quietly "It's not nice to hurt people. I know you are upset that we have to leave, but we use our words." I just don't have that kind of inner zen right now. So to those mommies out there who manage not to yell, I salute you. And send some of your patience my way, OK?
When I am up in the middle of the night I feel like I should really be productive, but somehow I never am. Right now I should be finishing one of the three books I am reading, or I should be writing a meaningful blog post for once, or I should be working on something that might actually make some money, or I should at least be folding the two baskets of laundry sitting in the family room. But instead I've been randomly wandering around the house trying to figure out what I should pack up next in anticipation of the move that will happen, someday.
Sigh. I guess I will get to that laundry now. It seems like the least productive thing I can be doing.
So I started a post this morning about what a fabulous summer it has been not having structured activities, and how I am not at all looking forward to the start of school. You will never, ever, see it. I tempted fate by even starting to type the words.
It is time for school to start. We all need a break from each other. Or at least I need a break from them. It was one of those days.
Do you think it is too late to enroll A in Mothers Morning Out two days a week?
Did ya see that big ole elephant sitting over there? Yeah, that one, the one that keeps screaming "Rebecca is moving to London. HELLO??? Did you hear me??? REBECCA is moving to LON-DON." I've been ignoring it, but I guess eventually one has to stop and actually pay attention to the elephant jumping around in the room. I mean, an elephant. It's a large animal. And it eats peanuts. So the fact that I have been ignoring it given A's allergy issues is huge, huge, I tell you.
All kidding aside, I have been ignoring the fact that my closest friend is picking up and moving far, far away, far enough away that I will have to count on my fingers AND factor in family schedule differences to figure out whether it is safe to call or not. And although everyone is swearing by Skype, I have a hard time picturing it working all that well for me as I tend to wander around the house while chatting on the phone.
Never mind about the bigger issues, like the fact that I have to find a new emergency contact for my kids, and figure out some way to safely hide my spare key because the keeper of the spare key is no longer going to be available to just run over every time I lock myself out (and no, you don't REALLY want to know how frequently she arrives in my driveway dangling my key out of her window. It is just embarrassing.) And who is going to provide a mommy gut check at 7:45 in the morning when I need to decide whether to shlep to the pediatrician's office or not?
I'm actually going to have to take my kids into the grocery store when I need one more egg to finish a quiche, or a ziploc bag in which to marinate the steak. When the going gets rough, I'll have to deal with my kids on my own instead of inviting myself over for a playdate. And if I need a insta-sitter for an emergency doctor's appointment, I'm going to have to call around to figure out who might be free instead of booking on the spot because I know Rebecca's schedule backwards and forwards.
So I think I am going to just keep on ignoring that elephant over there jumping up and down for just a few more days. Perhaps when he figures out we are a peanut-free household he'll leave for greener pastures...
C's friend: "Come on! Come on! We have to save the world! Right now! It's critical!"
C: (looking dubious) "You go save the world. I think I'm just going to sit down and take a rest. But thanks for asking me!"
C: (wailing) "I don't want you to leave, I just want it to be MY way..."
Truer words have never been spoken, at least by a four-year old.
As M put it on the drive home (over the screams) "Well, this year wasn't NEARLY as bad as last year, and NEXT year should be just GREAT!" It always helps to have a "glass is half full" person in every relationship...
But seriously, the trip far exceeded my expectations. Or, rather, the kids far exceeded my expectations. They played well with each other, fairly well with Cousin C, and although they reverted back to some very undesirable sleep patterns, I have hope that they will straighten out after a few days at home. Of course C still whined his way through the vacation, "But I don't WANT to go to the beach..." "But I don't WANT to leave the beach...,"and A, despite her illness, still threw some massive temper tantrums. I think Cousin C learned some rather unpleasant habits during her stay. Sorry Auntie M...
OK, so on to the activities. Of which there were actually very few, as this was the vacation of the choo choo. We went to the Seashore Trolley Museum multiple times, took six (or was it seven) trolley rides and explored every inch of the place on foot. By the end of our second week all of the volunteers knew C's name and were giving him high fives. Then Saturday we took the kids to TtFTE, which is deserving of its own post, but let's just say C figured out within five minutes that Thomas wasn't real, and A started crying when she saw the bobble head Sir Tophen Hatt, so the visit wasn't even close to worth the outrageous price we paid for the tickets. But, we did manage to escape without buying anything besides a water and a muffin, so it wasn't all bad I suppose.
The highlight of the trip for C, (outside of the trolley museum of course) was the little camp at the beach community center. He took tennis lessons and had two hours of your basic, run-of-the-mill day camp from my childhood that involved freeze tag, scavenger hunts, animal crackers, and a host of knock-knock jokes. No theme days, no enriching activities, just good old camp. And thanks to his camp experience, I met people more people during those two weeks then I have in all of the previous 20+ summers put together. Of course they all know me only as C's mom, but it made me feel like royalty to be out to dinner with M and have kids on bikes stopping by to wave and point me out to their parents.
I know this is a cop out post, but quite honestly after the laundry and cleaning and day of normal activities, the beach seems very, very far away. And I am just a little jealous that Auntie M and Nana are still up there basking in the sun. So I'm choosing to move forward and comment that in two short weeks my children start school, and I get one morning a week (OK, two hours of one morning) in which to grocery shop in peace. And that my friends, is no small thing.
For your viewing pleasure, the beach in all its glory. And this picture was taken at 3pm. I love this beach.
We are back. If you saw a black SUV speeding down the Eastern seaboard with two children screaming their heads off despite the liberal use of a laptop as DVD player, that was us. I now need to get the "two cats have been cooped up in my house for two weeks" smell out of my house, unpack, and replace the entire contents of my fridge due to an unfortunate failure to clean it out prior to our departure. The stench, it was not pretty.
And in case anyone had any doubts, my house, it is still very much for sale. I am sure the cat and fridge stench did nothing to improve its desirableness. On the upside, I can connect to the wide wide world of the internets at a moments notice again. Which will be useful as I google "cat stench removal."
After a 30+ minute monologue by A on everything under the sun...
C: "A, are you going to eat that grilled cheese or talk to it?"
A: "Um, I don't know!"
C: "Well, if you aren't going to eat it can I?"
A: "Sure!"
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We return to the world of high speed internet tomorrow, so stay tuned for a vacation round up in the near future....
This is my 500th post. I was planning on throwing myself a little blog party, but instead I am bowing to the Gods of childhood illnesses, as that fever of A's I thought was gone? Yeah. Not so much.
So here I am on vacation with a feverish child who exhibits no symptoms other than a fever that seems to randomly come and go according to its own whims and wishes. As I chatted with my new best friend, the on-call nurse at my pediatrician's office, I found myself saying over and over again "Nope, no symptoms. Eating, sleeping, drinking, peeing, pooping, playing, dancing, laughing." And she kept saying "Nothing? No ear tugging? No tummy ache? Nothing?" Yep, nothing except the damn fever.
It took a while to convince my new best friend that I was not in fact driving BACK seven+ hours to visit her, as nice as she was on the phone. She finally understood that I was ON VACATION. WITH FEVERISH, SYMPTOMLESS CHILD. And we decided that I should watch A for another day, or maybe two, and then find a random doctor to check her ears. Or something.
I should just stop planning vacations, or major holidays, or parties, as it never fails that one child or another manages to come down with something. Hey, do you suppose I could use that as an excuse not to attend my cousin's wedding in October? "I'm so sorry, we will not be able to attend. As I guarantee that one of my kids will be ill, so why don't I just save you the money for our dinners and write you a lovely check?" I'm going to have to sleep on that one. It might just be my get out of jail free card.
A housekeeping note: my connection is rather slow up here so I probably won't be around to visit much, but will stop by when I can and catch up in some fashion when I get back.
My vacation reading so far has been a re-read of A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend. The first time I read it, it was pre-kids and I was living in the middle of Manhattan. As cars honked around me, I started making mental plans to quit my job and thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. Clearly, I never quite made the finances and logistics work.
This time round, I was similarly inspired to hike the trail, although I recognized that realistically it wasn't happening for the next two decades or so. The thought of convincing two teenagers to devote a summer to a grueling hike with Mom and Dad makes me shiver. Especially since right now C can't walk further than the end of the driveway without whining that his legs hurt. Presumably in fifteen years his endurance will be a bit higher, but still...
Last night as I lay awake though, I started to panic (because, of course, I MUST start planning for something happening in two decades RIGHT NOW, this VERY INSTANT). "I bet my cell phone won't work on the trail. And even if it does, I clearly won't be able to charge it. What happens if my kids need me? What if one of them gets hurt and I am off gallivanting around the Appalachian Trail? What if something happens to my parents? They won't be spring chickens by that point." And on, and on the thoughts flew until I finally fretted myself to sleep.
Upon waking this morning, my first thought was "Man, I have this worrying thing DOWN. Will I ever learn to just let go and stop panicking about every little thing?" And my second thought was "Did these 'what if' thoughts of occur to all those people who hike the trail every year? Or did they just plunge right in assuming that their loved ones would survive for seven months without them in constant contact?" I have to assume that they had these random "what if" thoughts, and felt that the experience of hiking the trail was worth the risk. And I envy them that for as much as I would love to experience the hike, I don't know that I could take the risk.
We finally arrived in Maine late yesterday afternoon. The vacation started out with a bang as I made it here in an all-time (with kids) record, even with the hour-long stop for lunch that included the purchase of a Happy Meal for Julia (which I had to eat as, alas, she is not here) because the toy du jour was a Polly Pocket and "Julia LOVES Polly Pocket Mommy..."
Upon our arrival, we quickly headed to the beach and I discovered that, unlike prior visits when every trip to the beach was a major workout, this year I might actually be able to use that beach chair I insist on shlepping back and forth "just in case" and supervise from a seated position. After a quick dip we had supper, and both children were deposited into bed in the same room. Which meant I actually got to put on pajamas with the lights on instead of tripping over a pack-n-play or blow up bed in the dark. "Ahhh, this is the life" I thought to myself.
Then, of course, today it all fell apart. A has decided that she doesn't want to share with Cousin C, and that the mere sight of Cousin C is reason to cry and clutch all of her belongings and sob "Stay AWAY! MINE!" To which Cousin C nicely responds "Share? Nice? Share?" And I discovered the problem with having both children sleep in the same room is that it makes the sham of a quiet time I still enforce virtually impossible. And the noise they make wakes Cousin C, who sleeps 7 to 7 and takes a 2+ hour nap every day.
But, tomorrow is another day. One that involves sand and water and perhaps even a cup of coffee while sitting in a beach chair. Because I'm all about the beach chair this year.
C: "Mommy, do copy cats have tails?"
Mommy: "I don't know. What do you think?"
C: "I don't think so. (long pause) Copy cats aren't REALLY cats, are they? They're just people pretending to be cats, right?"
A still has a fever. We are not going to Maine tomorrow. C is going to miss the first day of camp. Gah.
Anyway, as I am flipping channels tonight to try and find something to distract myself from my pity party of one, I find MTV's The Real World. I watch for five minutes and think "God, they are so young." And then I think about it, and during the third season, which I was addicted to thanks to Rebecca and MS, Groomzilla's husband, I thought they were so old.
Now I'm really depressed.
So Rebecca and I tried out some IMing (is it called that these days?) to see if it would suffice as our daily form of contact, seeing as international phone-a-thons to England would max out our budgets in no time flat. And I discovered after the fact that transcripts of the chats are kept (Remember that! Nothing goes into cyberspace unrecorded...). So, here, for your amusement, is the transcript of our first IM chat.
I feel old. Very old. How do kids do this and text messaging? Do ya think I will get used to it?
_______________________________________________________
Rebecca: hello? are you there? what the hell is this green dot they're talking about?
me: I dunno. I am finding Google Talk rather confusing myself...
Rebecca: oh. found green dot. duh. still confused, though.
me: Where is it? Oh, wait. There.
Rebecca: can I not enlarge this window? so annoying
me: I can't find a way to enlarge it. Should we keep shopping services?
Rebecca: on the up side, this is every bit as linear as chatting while trying to control screaming children (and I can scroll back up to see what I missed when someone loses it)
me: Not quite as satisfying as a chat on the phone but I am sure I will get used to it.
Rebecca: People seem to love MSN... and is IM a generic term or a specific service? I don't even know. I am feeling quite old right now.
I think it's going to be harder to multitask while IMing...
me: I am feeling very old. IM is through AOL. That's what B and I used to use. I don't remember having issues, but I was younger and hipper.
It will be more difficult to multi task.
Rebecca: how many holes are they playing exactly?
me: Yeah, I'm tied down to the computer and my kids just dumped water all over the floor.
I would guess 10 holes, 9 + the bar...
me: Hey, it told me you were typing
that was cool
Rebecca: yes, I did notice that.
me: I do like the fact it just adds on as I type if you haven't answered.
Like this! Fun
Rebecca: oooh. ok, this could work. try opening another window above this and watch...
I can interrupt you!
Did you see?
Uh.... hello? :)
So a quick A update, she is still fever-ridden, but demanding that we cater to her every whim, so I am not so concerned about her well being tonight. If she can keep me running up and down the stairs for an hour and a half with demands like "I need socks on my hands" and "I think I want to sing Hello Everybody FIVE times now" then she is not all that ill. Although I will probably make the obligatory phone call to the pediatrican's office in the AM so I don't get chewed out for not calling if she still has the fever on Monday.
But the real topic of this post is that today I broke the news to C that his best friend Julia was moving to London. After we looked up London on a map and determined that it was "a lot further than Nana's" he burst into tears. Then suddenly he perked up and smiled. "Mommy! Julia isn't really moving. Because it takes a really long time to find someone to live in your house so you can move. So I'm not sad anymore because by the time someone wants to live in her house, I'll be all grown up." And despite my reassurances that she was indeed moving, whether or not they found someone to live in her house, he was insistent that it wasn't really happening.
Ah, September will be so much fun.
C: "Mommy, we didn't LOSE our power last night, it was just going for a run. It was getting its exercise. Then it came back to cool off in the AC."
It is clear that I will not be getting much sleep tonight as A seems to be hallucinating. Every ten minutes or so she starts flailing about and crying out. At first she thought C was in her room trying to take her CD player. More recently, she was convinced that Zak and Wheezie from Dragon Tales had taken her lunch box. (Do you see a theme here?) A few minutes ago she started laughing at the silly goats in shoes. I didn't even know that she knew what a goat was. But, apparently they have silly shoes on. Now she is crying out because her pigtails are missing. Which is slightly amusing if you know just how long it takes me to convince her to put them in every morning and then how quickly she takes them out and hides the holders.
My attempts to get fluid into A have been remarkably unsuccessful, so I am guessing we will be headed into the pediatrician's office bright and early tomorrow morning for an exam. And this will now make the fourth year in a row that we have seen the pediatrician within 24 hours of our intended departure for Maine. There seems to be some bad, bad karma going on here. On the up side, I won't have to spend 39 cents to send in C's medical form for school next year.
At least our power is back.
So, to add insult to injury, A's fever is apparently caused by a stomach bug. And right after she vomited, we lost power. Leaving me to scrub up a puke covered bathroom by flashlight. God only knows if I got it all, I guess the stench will tell me in a few hours. Ah, if it were only Wednesday...
Anyway, once I got everyone and everything cleaned up and called M to tell him that he probably wanted to check whether the trains had power before he left the city, I decided to find something for dinner. "Ah HAH." I thought. "I will dig into my stockpile for the apocalypse. This will be a great trial run." After rummaging through the bins in the basement and my cupboards, I was reduced to a dinner of mini-marshmallows and cereal. Apparently my plans for the apocalypse all rely on having a working electrical grid. Clearly, I need to rethink things a bit.
So, here I sit, typing in the dark on my laptop about to run out of juice. Thank God for wireless.
So both the suggested books were out until the end of August at my library. Do we want to pick another or wait until September? I put a reserve on them just in case.
Or, since I seem to be terribly disorganized, and Stephanie has her act together, I can direct you to her new bookclub site, and we can band forces with her.
A developed a sudden fever of 103 this afternoon. So, that trip to Maine tomorrow? Yeah. Not happening. At least not tomorrow. I'm trying to find a bright side, but I can't quite see past the clouds.
We leave shortly for the great trek to Nana's in Maine. Have I started packing? Cough, cough, sputter. I have a list...in my head.... Actually, M has graciously agreed to take tomorrow AM off to watch the kids while I pack, so for once I'm not running around like a chicken. But I DO need to get on making those lists...
Anyway, pre-kids vacation planning was all about how many books I thought I could get through. And I always underestimated and ended up having to make a bookstore run. Which was no great sacrifice, trust me. But now, my lists include things like "sippy cups, loveys, DVD's, swim diapers, oh, and how about the new O magazine?" I think on my last two trips to Maine I have gotten through a total of two books. Over two years. And I finished both of them at home once vacation was over. In October I think.
This year, I decided to avoid the bookstore trip and head to the library. Now that I can keep books out for a month at a time, I can actually take library books on vacation without buying them with the late fines. And I figure I can be more ambitious about my reading list because I won't feel guilty about spending the money on the books and then not reading them. So after quiet time today we will be heading to the library to stock up. Which means I need to get online and reserve some books because it's not like I will get to do any browsing with the kids in tow.
I'm still not quite sure when I'll get the reading in, but this year I am much less tired than I was during the last two years, so perhaps I will choose to use my Nana time to read instead of sleep. Or perhaps A and C will start napping again (yeah, right). Regardless, I'm at least going to try to ramp up my reading level again. I'm aiming for finishing a book a week. A gal has to have dreams you know...
I was planning on making a taco salad for dinner using the leftover grilled chicken for last night. As I was looking over the recipe I thought to myself "Have to check and make sure I have corn." Which I then neglected to do. And of course, when I went to add to corn into the salad, I had none. So instead of shlepping both kids to the store in this heat I decided to pick the corn kernels out of the bag of mixed vegetables. Yes, you read that correctly. I just spent the last 45 minutes sorting frozen mixed vegetables to avoid the grocery store.
Anyone need some peas or carrots?
Are we the only household in which Band-Aids are the major form of currency? It seems that we go through Band-Aids faster than goldfish crackers. It doesn't matter if there is blood or not, any boo boo, real or imagined, requires the immediate application of a character laden bandage.
Not every Band-Aid is created equal; depending on the day, Dora, Blue or Sesame are the sticky bandage of choice. Today, Target was out of BOTH Blue and Dora, so we had to venture into new territory, Hello Kitty and Spiderman. Both have been embraced with abandon. Joy of joys. Even more characters that I need to keep in stock.
At the moment, A has a Hello Kitty bandage on her pinky, a Spiderman one on her knee, and two Sesame bandages held in reserve, just in case. C has two Blue's Clues Band-Aids on his shin, although only one of them is the coveted one with Tickity Tock on it. He too is holding some in reserve, apparently they are preparing for the apocalypse in their own way.
I have tried offering up stickers instead of Band-Aids when one is requested, but am always scoffed at. "Silly mommy, I have a BOO BOO. A BOO BOO. I don't need to do art." Silly me indeed. Cause if there is no blood, I am hard pressed to call a small red mark Band-Aid worthy.
The folks over at J and J were brilliant, just brilliant. "Hmm, what is better than mommy's kiss? Hey, I've got it! Stick a cartoon character on a Band-Aid! The kids will go wild!" I should have bought stock in them as a kid. I would be rich by now I tell you. Rich!
