Today something happened that instantly took me back to the seventh grade where my not-so-friendly Himalayan cat, “Popcorn,” had a very dirty issue: Non-detachable poopies. On a weekly basis they would become entangled and trapped in his very long, white fuzzy hair. Oh, how they loved to hitch a ride on his bottom, snuggle up on the couch with him, and leave a trail across the blue tile basement floor as he’d try ever so faithfully to detach it AND FAIL! Oh, how my father would freak out, can you blame him, in coming home from a long day at work and seeing the famous familiar signature smeared across the floor. “Laura, would you go clean the da%& dingle berry!” Dingle berry! That was the most hilarious word I had ever heard and also the word I grew to dread hearing. I, the cat lover, was the chosen one to be handed the brush, a wipe, and a glove, to work that thing out and put it in its proper place, in between wrestling this violated cat that was determined to fight me to the finish.
Today, I wrestle my 1YO with each diaper change; I have dear Popcorn to thank for preparing me not only for the fight, but preparing me for the dingle berry that came back to haunt me this afternoon. Let me rewind in my mind a moment: it was before my 1YO learned how to climb out of his crib. It was after my “date” with Toddler-girl where we ate blueberry muffins outside in the sun. And, it was after the air conditioning repair guy left and told me it would cost $1,500 to repair the broken AC that chose to malfunction on the hottest day of spring! Yes, it was during nap time that the dingle berry struck.
Toddler-girl crept out of her bed and came to the door. There I sat on the couch just about to put my feet up when those two big eyes squinted and that sweet voice declared: “I need to do poopoo on the potty!” So I escort her to the bathroom, little man followed, because they’re not on the same nap schedule today. In the moment I’m looking at him, she’s already off the pot attempting to wash her hands, when to my horror I spot a fudge trail on the potty seat and a dangler hanging off her bottom!(Gasp)The dingle berry had returned!
“Wait! Wait!” I yell, anxiously reaching for a wipe when little girl realizes how hysterically funny it would be to run away from Mommy, clueless that the notorious Mr. Poopie was following close behind all while little man approaches the potty seat to inspect the skid marks.
Well, with baby boy tucked under one arm and a wipe extended in the other (my most common stance these days) I captured it. Detached it. Disposed of it. Again! Isn't it funny how history has a way of repeating itself? But this time, I defeated the dingle berry one handed. Oh, how motherhood quickly stretches you, expands your capabilities, and widens your horizons.
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