First there's all the talking from the Widget and that crazy writing thing that DramaBoy is doing these days, and now they're daring to grow physically at the most inconvenient times. You'd think they could hold off a week or two so that Christmas gifts could fulfill some needs, but no....So out comes the debit card and a couple of pesky emergency purchases are made.
The first emergency has been, in reality, creeping up for a couple of weeks, but I was in denial. You see, neither of the boys could fit comfortably into one of the car seats in my car. Not just any car seat, but the very first car seat we ever had. The car seat in which we brought home the teensy tiny DramaBoy, who was so very small that I had to wedge him about with rolled-up receiving blankets so that his wee head wouldn't bobble out of control. The car seat which then held the almost as teensy tiny Widget when he came along less than a year-and-a-half later, also wedged with rolled-up blankets.
Tangent: What would we do without those things? The blankets, I mean. I had about thirty of them and never seemed to have enough. Note to new mothers: you can NEVER have too many receiving blankets!!!
Anyhow, DramaBoy could no longer be forced into the seatbelt in that thing at all, and The Widget was having to hold his breath most each trip we took. Too tight! he would say, patting his chest with a look of mild desperation. Too tight, Mama!
It was time and more than time. Yesterday I headed off to Target to grab one of their Cosco brand transition seats--you know, car seat one way and booster chair another? As I pulled its simple plastic-wrapped bulk off the shelf, I couldn't help but chuckle over how we had researched car seats for months and purchased the (quite pricey) deluxe suede-and-faux-leather car seat (HA! What were we thinking? Ever tried to clean baby vomit out of suede?!?) all those many years ago, whereas here I was snagging the very basic store brand seat that cost perhaps one-sixth as much, if that.
Ah, parenting. How time changes one's perspective.
The old seat cradled the new one on the way back to the house:
I hope its feelings weren't hurt too much.
Farewell, thou old friend. You have been through the wars. May you rest in
What you can't see in this picture: the cuts, the stains, and who knows what else...
Both my boys are now safely strapped in and (bonus!) able to breathe. All good, right?
HA. Today as I was putting on DramaBoy's shoes at the mall play area, I realized there was a gaping hole in the toe:
Finger shown for display purposes. This would have been his toe, without a sock.
So we had no choice but to head off to Target yet again (Who would have thought five years ago it would have become my go-to store? Ah, the realities of parenting...) to search for shoes. The Widget's were looking a little worn and tight as well, not to mention that buying new shoes for one boy and not the other would NOT go over well.
Sometimes they're as bad as twins.
Ah, but we couldn't just get any old shoes. DramaBoy made it clear he wanted Spiderman shoes or, at the very least, some sort of superhero. The Widget chimed in with his parrot act agreement. And lo, Target had Spiderman shoes, in both "good" and "bad" versions. And lo, there was a pair in The Widget's size! And...oh crap. None in DramaBoy's. We searched high and low. Nothing. No other shoes were deemed suitable for replacement, either.
Finally, in desperation, I called another Target and sent the poor customer service lady in search of Spiderman shoes (either moral compass acceptable from my point of view, though DramaBoy insisted he really wanted the "bad" Spiderman) in the right size. She was quite confused at first, but finally found one pair ("good" Spiderman) in size 9. SCORE!!! I informed DramaBoy that if he didn't want the "good" Spiderman, he could settle for a pair of the "bored" shoes. All or nothing, buster.
We bought The Widget's pair and then travelled the twenty minutes to the other store, where the shoes were waiting at the Guest Services desk. They fit, DramaBoy decided (after a look at my face) that the "good" Spiderman was just fine (Now The Widget and I have the same kind! he declared with a fixed smile), and he wore them out of the store so that his poor tootsies would no longer be wet and frozen.
The heels flash when they walk.
This way I can find the boys when they try to hide from me.
Call me a sucker for giving in to my child's demand for brand name merchandising, but whatever. The price was right, my boylets are happy, and I no longer look like a mother who can't keep her children's toes covered.
It's all Win.