One of the ongoing sources of conflict between my mom and my husband and me is the amount of junk that the baby comes home with when he spends time with her.
Full disclosure: my child is spoiled. His toys and belongings have at least some presence in nearly every room in our house. We buy stuff for him (rarely, because a) we’re broke and b) he really doesn’t need more crap), and then he has two grandmothers, two grandfathers, an aunt, two great-grandmothers, a great-grandfather, and a slew of extended relatives who think he is so swell that he deserves another Bionicle. The husband and I have had to be stern/mean to our well-meaning families explaining to them that all of the plastic junk that they buy him is, in fact, junk, that he has a lot of trouble distinguishing between wants and needs (and, yes, we know he’s only 8 but it really feels like we’re fighting an unwinnable war here), that the rate at which new toys come in is way too fast, and that we simply do not have the time nor the desire to constantly find places for new toys or to sort through and get rid of old toys.
Our house is big, over 4,000 square feet, and there’s no reason that we should have a hard time finding room for stuff.
Many of the assorted grandparents have listened and curtailed their gift-giving. My mom continues to buy him trinkets and whatnot when they go out, despite me sometimes tearfully telling her not to. She sees my house. She knows it’s always messy and it stresses me out. And, really, I thought the problem sort of ended there.
The baby spent the night at her house on Saturday and Sunday he arrived home bearing two toys from Kawaii, a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, a big bottle of Sprite, and…lord help me…a can of Axe Body Spray.
Her justification: “Well, he wanted this $50 bottle of cologne at Sephora so we got this instead.”
Why is everyone just apparently drunk all the time? How did I miss this nonsensical party that everyone lives in now?
Anyway, the combination of the Cheetos, Sprite, and Axe gave me a glimpse of the future. Really, I thought I had a few years before my kid staunchly eats nothing but junk food and smells of the signature fragrance of sexual and emotional immaturity and the desperation that only horny teens can emit.
Much like skunks and mustard gas, Axe performs a hostile takeover of each and every molecule every time it is released. About two hours after the substance had entered our house, the baby had squirted himself several times and was starting to ensure that his toys smelled pimp musk by giving them the treatment.
The Axe was then confiscated and is now residing on top of our fridge (right next to his DS, which was confiscated last week and MY GOD has it been a trying time in the kdiddy household), probably making everything up there smell weird. The next step is to gain entry into my mom’s house and set up some kind of Axe bomb.
Sad Little known fact about me: some times if the husband is out and I’m by myself on a weekend night, I drink beers and watch music videos and talk shit on them. I remember when the video for Ciara’s “One Two Step” was in heavy rotation and around 2 and 1/2 minutes into the video, a guy douses himself and the air around him with Axe. It makes me choke every time I see it.