Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Soft toy washing trauma.
But I be done seen 'bout ev'rything, When I see a elephant in a washing machine.
Miss D loves her Dumbo soft toy, It pretty much goes everywhere with us. If she’s tired or grumpy then she needs that elephant and bedtimes are a non-starter if he’s not around… I know she’ll grow out of this phase so it doesn’t bother me, but my only stipulation is that Dumbo MUST have a wash on a regular basis to keep him vaguely fresh and clean.
This requirement stems from a story my wife told me a while back. One of her cousins had the original “Linus from Snoopy” style security blanket, he could never be parted from it and would never allow it to be washed. You can imagine how gruesome this piece of fabric was; I’m sure if it were left alone long enough in a controlled environment, a whole new lifeform would have evolved from the fibres of this dribbly, snot-riddled abomination.
So, with that image permanently engraved on my brain, every couple of weeks it’s bathtime for Dumbo and Miss D’s postpartum tantrums begin. It’s strange, she can leave him on the sofa and forget about him all afternoon while we’re doing something else but as soon as I pick him up she wants her elephant back. I’ve tried the sneaky approach, the quick snatch while she’s watching a favourite TV show but she always manages to catch me.
When I finally manage to convince a (usually) tearful Miss D that Dumbo “really needs a wash because he’s smelly” and that “when he’s finished he’ll smell lovely and clean”, we’ll put him in the washing machine and then spend the next hour and a half going backwards and forwards as Miss D is anxious to check how he’s getting along. The glum expression eventually turns to a smile and the spin cycle makes her laugh as we watch him travelling round at several hundred RPM…
Program finished, door open, and the once grubby, stinky elephant looks and smells like new, albeit a little damp. “Can we hang him up to dry?” I ask. No chance, he’s back in Miss D’s vice-like grip and going nowhere for a while, well, until dinner time when I’ll steal him back and give him a few minutes on the radiator!