I have a pretty darn great kid. He’s smart, funny and aside from some minor tantrums and a propensity for talking really, really loudly no matter where he is (which he no doubt gets from me), he is also well-behaved. We do have a “naughty spot” for time outs, but we only use it every once in awhile.
He does, however, have one very odd little habit: he plucks the fuzz off of every stuffed animal that crosses his path. He has this cute little lamb he got for his first Easter whose fleece is not white as snow, mostly because he has almost no fleece left. His little head is almost completely bald. His little paws and backs of his legs are naked.
This in itself isn’t really cause for concern. He’s happy. He eats everything we put in his path (except brussel sprouts, which I didn’t actually give him, my dad did. He said they were “dirty”). He plays well with others (as long as they don’t try to take his trains). What bothers me more than anything is all the damn fuzz I find around my house.
It’s bad enough that I’m constantly picking fuzz off my floor. But lately it has been seeping into my laundry basket. It’s not lamby’s fuzz. It’s from his monkey “Big George.” He picks and picks at his monkey before he falls asleep and in the morning before we get him out of bed. So his pjs get covered. Some it just brushes right off of, but others it clings to.
Tonight when I was folding his clothes, I found five different pairs of jammies full of brown monkey fuzz. Despite going through the washer and the dryer, it was clinging on for dear life. So I sat and tried to pick it all off. After about 10 minutes though, I got frustrated and gave up. After all, it’s not like we take him out of the house in his jammies. The worst thing that’ll happen is yet more fuzz will fall on my floor and clog my vaccuum.
I take slight comfort from my mother-in-law who constantly tells me that her eldest daughter (the very smart and successful doctor) also used to denude her fuzzies. She still has a teddy bear that is completely devoid of any sort of hair. I guess it runs in the family. And I thought mine was wierd.
(picture of scary hairless lamb to come tomorrow–he’s sleeping with him right now)