Please excuse this next post, as it does not exactly offer any fashion advice. It is more of a fashion safety PSA of sorts.
I will begin by saying Freshy has always had a thing for socks. As a young baby he would work for hours to pull them off of his sticky little toes. As he became mobile, he liked to carry them around in his mouth, like a dog. As he grew into a toddler, he loved to put them on his hands and have "socky" puppet shows. Please heed the following warning, as his almost 3-year old 'tude, has decided to give sockies a new purpose.
CAUTION: Size 7 toddler socks can act as weapons of destruction and disgust.
Here are two examples of Freshy's latest tactics:
A Few Weeks Ago...
Freshy was upset that I too quickly flushed the potty without giving him the chance to. Honestly, I should have known better. There's nothing worse you can do than take away a victory flush from a potty-training soon-to-be-3-year-old. But, in a moment of messy desperation, I went to flush the first half of the clean-up effort to make room for the rest. As soon as I let go of the flusher, panick set in. My face dropped. Sugar, I messed up. His face turned to me, blank, mouth open, he just stared. Uh oh. I knew I had a 5-second window to change his near devastation into content.
I told him he could flush the rest. I told him I was sorry. I tried to play it off like it wasn't a big deal. I told him he could have an extra M&M. I told him he could start over (I know, that's a reach, but usually what he wants to do if I accidentally help him with one of his "big boy" things). I told him a Batman joke. I tried talking about what activities he wanted to do that day.
It was too late. He wasn't buying any of it. Freshy's blank face changed to shades of red and purple as he transformed into meltdown mode. *Cringe.*
"YOU FWUSHED NIE POOPIES!!!!" Uh oh. "Be right back, Fresh!"
I booked it upstairs as fast as I could, 2 stairs at a time, to find one of his really cool pairs of big boy underpants. "That will work. He has been asking for them for days. Come on, come on, where are you Freshy's blue (not red) Bob the Builder pants?"
By the time I found them and flew back downstairs I noticed an unexpected calm in the air. I suspiciously rounded the corner, one brow raised, to find Freshy standing quietly in front of the toilet. He proudly raised his chin and declared "I flushed nie sockies in the toyet." And with his trademark "hmph" he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me. This time he had the raised eyebrows. Sweet toddler revenge. Perfect.
Well, the good news is the toilet didn't break. Freshy got a speech and a time out. I locked myself in the bathroom and laughed hysterically, yet silently (something I've mastered as a mom), for the next ten minutes.
One Week Later
We were hanging out as a family and Freshy misbehaved (I forget exactly what he did, it was minor) and Daddy-O corrected his behavior. We went back to playing games, and apparently we failed to pay attention to Fresh. Daddy-O took a sip of his drink and suddenly started to gag and spit. Then he screamed Freshy's name (think Fred Flintstone screaching "WIL-MAAAAA"). Uh wa oh.
The cause of the upset.
So, if you have freshies of your own, don't say I didn't warn you. ;)
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