Thumbs and Explosions


For Part 1, I would like to elaborate on the Thumb situation. There are many things in this world that I shall happily leave to fate, and for all of my frantic wishing, I would love for this to be one of them. Have you ever tried taking a thumb away from a small child? It’s easy until you have to enforce it. Truth be told, there’s been several times already where I have given in simply because if Littlest is sucking his thumb, he doesn’t test bedtime rituals. Or time outs. Or naps. But, giving in isn’t really what I had in mind. More importantly, it badly needs to go. I present to you this poorly rendered (in Paint, no less) version of what has happened to Littlest’s beloved appendage.

thumb comparison

It’s wrinkled.

It’s waterlogged.

It’s mangled.

His nail is almost unrecognizable from the amount of times I’ve had to trim the worst of it off.

So, in the essence of a) hygiene, and b) preservation of his most important digit before it turns into something resembling the undead, I feel as though I do not have another option. It must go. I really, really, really wish I could avoid this battle.

Cue Part 2.

The reason for my unrealistic daydream of avoidance is simply… Explosions. His. And mine. He’s amped up his testing of my will to be the Mom. For instance, he’s got road rash on his lip right now because he decided throwing himself to the ground to protest our forward motion WHILE we were in motion was an excellent idea. And most of our first swimming lesson today was spent giving me the literal cold shoulder whilst muttering “Nowanu”. The youngest in his class of three, and by far the most verbally angry about the situation. Clearly picking up “treasures” from the shallow end was beneath his notice. (The shallow end was about 12″ deep.) All two of the other children were all “Woooo let’s blow bubbles with our faces in the water!”. Littlest was all “OH HELL NO! That shiznit is gonna muck up my facial leftovers from breakfast that Mommy couldn’t get off!” The other children were happy to walk around and splash. Littlest refused to let me move more than an inch without hanging onto my lap like we were in the middle of the ocean and it was the only piece of flotsam in sight. I’m not even going to bother telling you about the ruckus he caused with the idea of “front floats”. So far, we’re getting an F for participation and an A+ for noise production. At this point, I’ll settle for an E for Effort.

By the time I made the 4 separate 20-minute walks to daycare and back, along with walking home, let’s just say Mommy was powering a third world country’s entire power supply. (Keeping in mind that the whole “forward motion” thing didn’t get better for ANY of those walks.)

And with that, I’m going to bed.

Oh. And did I mention that my eldest child broke my coffee cup on the bus, I lost my bus pass, and my lunch exploded in my backpack, leaving the front cavity dripping with caramel yogurt? Yep. It happened.

I’m hoping tomorrow will be an improvement. Since I’m not taking caramel yogurt with me tomorrow, it’s guaranteed to be less explosive, right?

The Handler.

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