Mostly what I find and then launder is your run-of-the-mill household fuzz -- pieces of cat or dog fur, long strands of my hair, half-crushed Wagon Wheels, pieces of junk mail Aidan decided to rip into shreds, bits of waffle that I let Aidan gum during breakfast. Some of the items are a little more interesting, at least when they turn up in the dryer. I've found batteries, coupons, shredded cheese, and an entire bag of 100 calorie Graham Crackers. Thankfully, the bag remained closed so the laundry was spared.
I admit I'm going a little crazy about picking things up off of the floor and some days think longingly of the day when our son will develop the presence of mind not to eat rocks. Or grass. Or cat. More often, however, I find myself wishing that it could always be this easy. Wishing that the threats would always be so clearly identified, so easy to remove, small enough to fit in my pocket and be carefully laundered before they are dumped in the trash never to do us harm. For now, while he is still so young, I can at least pretend I have control, but I know the older he gets the less I will be able to protect him from every hazard in his path. So I suppose I will do just what I can for now, and try to teach him to face the bigger challenges on his own, and how to fold them up and cram them into his own pockets until I can run them through the dryer and throw them away.

"Everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) goes into my mouth!!"
1 comment:
I hear you, girl! I too, try to keep everything picked up but it's inevitable (as much as my husband nags!) Love your blog!
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