Traumatized For Life

One of my main goals as a parent, as I'm sure it is for all parents, is to try not to do anything that might traumatize my kids.  It seems silly for that to be a goal really, because why would you do something to traumatize your own child.  But I'm just saying, we hope that nothing we do inadvertently traumatizes them.

Now it's no secret that my kids love their lovies.  They do everything with them.  The eat, sleep, play, etc. together.  Since my daughter's lovie has been so well loved, it was a bit filthy.  Okay, a little more than a "bit" filthy.  Her "Sheepy" hasn't actually been washed since we gave it to her at birth.  GROSS!!!!  It's hard to find time to pry it away from her, especially since she needs it during naps and at bedtime.  But I was starting to fear that if Sheepy didn't get washed soon, my daughter was going to become just as attached to the smell of Sheepy as she was to Sheepy itself and reject her once I finally did wash her (which the experts say can happen).

So I decided the other day was D-day.  I was going to give that thing a bath if it was the last thing I did.  My daughter and I were inside accomplishing various tasks around the house.  Like her big brother, she loves to help.  I thought that I would make the task of washing her lovie sound like a fun thing that she could participate in.  (I'm stupidly optimistic like that, though I should know better.)  I said, "Come!  Let's go give Sheepy a bath! She'll go splish-splash in the bath just like you do and will be all nice and clean then."  I said all of this in a high-pitched, excited voice to get her interested.  She willingly followed me and seemed excited about it.

That is until we got to the washing machine.  She put Sheepy in for a second, but once she realized what we were doing, she grabbed Sheepy out of the washer and took of into the other room and hid from me.  When I found her and tried to remove Sheepy from her kung-fu grip, she screamed.

That's when I decided on Plan B, trickery.  I waited for her to become busy playing and put Sheepy down.  She kept a watchful eye on me for a while, but eventually became engrossed in something, put Sheepy down, and forgot all about her.  That's when I swooped in, snatched Sheepy, and stealthily snuck her off to the washer.

All was going we well.  She didn't even notice that Sheepy was gone from the spot she had dropped her.  That is until she fell, bumped her head, and wanted Sheepy to comfort her.  She stood up and went to the spot where Sheepy was, stood there for a moment, and then heard the sound of the washer running.  She immediately ran to the laundry room door.  BUSTED!  There's no fooling this kid.  She stood at the door and broke down crying and saying "BAA!  BAAAAAAAA!  BAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  (She calls her Sheepy "Baa" since that's what a sheep says and she can't yet say Sheepy.)

I felt horrible.  But there was nothing I could do.  Then I thought, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she could just see Sheepy.  I had laundry to get out of the dryer anyway.  I thought, 'She can see that sheepy is alright and then she can help me with the laundry".  (Again, stupidly optimistic.)  STRIKE THREE!  She just stood there, pressed her hands and face against the door on our front-load washer, watched Sheepy go round and round, and yelled out "BAA!  BAA!".  Needless to say, we didn't get much laundry done.

She was the most hysterical I had ever seen her.  Even once we went upstairs she just walked around, pouting and saying "Baa!".  I started to fear that I was traumatizing her for life.  Poor thing.  But alas, before bed, Sheepy was dry, the two were reunited, and the events of the evening seemed to have instantly been forgotten (I hope).  Honestly, she was so happy to have her back, I don't think she cared what she smelled like.

And might I just say, Sheepy looks brand new.  (And doesn't have a funny odor)

Sincerely,
The Terribly Traumatizing Mother