Monday, August 11, 2008

Madness #18--magic sippys

My son is growing up too fast. And I seem to be getting dumber all the while.

So Marty graduated to a "big boy" sippy cup a couple months ago. I'm even contemplating packing up his bottles and storing them in the garage until Moseley #4 comes along. Gasp. Those bottles have gotten us through some sleepless nights, so it would be a rough goodbye for me.

But it's time to move on. We started little Goobie off with your basic, 6-ounce sippy, with a rubbery top so he could suck on it pretty easily. But six measly ounces just doesn't cut it anymore. I knew I had to invest in some 10-ouncers, so he wouldn't keep coming to me for refills a hundred times a day.

Went to Target. Picked out Gerber's finest--really, the ones that were on sale, and even cheaper with my coupon. And of course, we had to get the boy colors, since I knew my husband would not appreciate seeing his son drink out of a pink cup, no matter how often he takes a sip here and there when Alyssum's is lying around. But blue and green it was.

That night, I eagerly filled Goob's blue sippy with water and stuck it in the fridge so it would be nice and cold the next morning. Kind of a "good morning, breakfast wake-me-up". But when I went to retrieve it the following AM, the sippy was gone! In its place was a purple one of the same make and model. Purple?! But that's a girl color!

My mom happened to be standing there, and I showed her what happened, asking how the purple one got into the fridge. I must have been tired, because I could have sworn that someone broke into my house and pulled a sippy switch on me. But nothing else in the house was different. I was so confused. Until my mom calmly answered, "Becky, it probably just changes color when it gets cold."

D'oh! Can I blame this one on being blonde as a child? I swear, I think I have the smarts, and then pull a stunt like this one. I'm sure it'll go down in my family history next to the time I thought that Canadians said "ya" instead of "eh". My Swedish roots were surely shuddering in the one-eighth of me they occupy.

Maybe I'll blame all this on the fact that I converse with a fourteen-month-old most of the day, whose latest intellectual acheivement was to immitate his Mommy saying, "Don't touch." And to toss a beanbag at his little baby buddies. So in the grand scheme of things, thinking a sippy-snatcher broke into my fridge is really not that bad.

Right? Guys? Right?!

3 comments:

Rebecca Gafner said...

YOu are too stinkin cute!

Anonymous said...

Just think of all the great stories you are racking up to tell M4 when he's older! How was M3's birthday? UB

Candace said...

Right!! ;)