A Fixer Upper

It was much anticipated. It was dreaded. It was inevitable. It was Harrison’s first trip to the dentist. I didn’t know how it possibly could go well, so I employed a “fake it til you make it” approach. We talked it up; there would be cool tools (he asked if the dentist had a tape measure…), there would be all kinds of flavors of toothpaste (“Can you tell me all the flavors again?”), and there would probably be prizes at the end.

Well, dear readers, I regret to inform you that Harrison did just fine at the dentist and there was absolutely nothing noteworthy about his appointment. I was really hoping for some fantastic blogging material to blossom out of this major life event, however, he really let us down. He acted like a normal, civilized human being the entire time. He got to look at the cool tools (no tape measure), he picked out bubblegum toothpaste, and, indeed, he got some great prizes at the end.

It was within these great prizes that a story is found. Inside Harrison’s goodie bag, he received typical dentist parting gifts, such as a toothbrush and dental floss. There were also various dollar store trinkets in there, including a rubber stretchy frog. From the moment he was gifted this gem, it remained in his hand. We even had to name it (James) and make it a bed. It requested an extra cup of milk upon waking up and hot dogs for breakfast (that request was denied).

A mere 21 hours after this new favorite toy came into Harrison’s possession, tragedy struck. While I was quietly sipping my coffee, I heard Harrison wailing from the top of the stairs. Not at all worried that something actually serious was wrong, I flew up the stairs to comfort him because Ella was still asleep and I didn’t want him to wake her. When I retrieved him from the steps in a puddle of tears, he blubbered that his frog had lost its arm. In other words, he pulled his frog’s arm so hard that it fell off.

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Since I am obviously very crafty and intelligent, I knew I could right this wrong. Actually, I tried to tell Harrison that he could still love his frog even if it only had one arm, but apparently we haven’t reached the point of childhood development where beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. So, back to being crafty and intelligent, I pulled out the medicine box and got to work.

The first thing I did was cut a toothpick to make a tiny splint so that I could reattach the frog’s arm with medical tape. This was a fantastic plan, but it immediately fell off once I wrapped it.

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Then I decided that this frog’s dire situation required his arm to be in a sling.

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You guys. I seriously thought I was brilliant. I explained to Harrison that his frog needed to rest like this until his arm healed. I figured that he would tire of the frog before he realized that I didn’t in fact have a medical degree and that dollar store toys were not meant to be repaired. Unfortunately, 3 year old boys do not know how to play gently and the frog’s arm soon became dislodged from my fantastic sling.

Have you ever stitched together a rubber frog? Because I have. Now. Now, I have. Out of complete necessity I repaired my son’s current prized possession with a needle and thread. Much to my mother’s dismay, my cleverness and craftiness does not stretch to sewing, however, I think I did a pretty good job. You can BARELY tell that this frog has been repaired. Justin asked me when the stitches were going to come out, to which I responded with an evil glare, because Harrison then turned hopefully to me to see when his frog should return to the infirmary of our kitchen counter for the removal of sutures. Never. The stitches are never coming  out.

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James the frog rested peacefully in its own bed, full on hot dogs (wish was granted for lunch) and tater tots after a long day of playing in its new pond (the baby pool in our front yard) and going on several tractor rides with a prime spot right between the handle bars of Harrison’s ride on toy. Apparently this toy isn’t going to lose its luster after a few hours, even if it does have permanent stitches.

Author: livefromtimeout

I am a stay at home mom of two vivacious toddlers, ages one and three. When I'm not refereeing, I like to workout and drink wine. But not at the same time.

2 thoughts on “A Fixer Upper”

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