Buffy

I'll bet anything you just looked at that photo and thought to yourself that this was going to be a cute and cuddly post.

They do this thing that I hate at the elementary school. Matt did it in kindergarten, Evan did it in kindergarten, and now 8 years after the first time I was initially horrified, I find myself being horrified all over again since Josh is in kindergarten at the very same school. The disgusting filthy thing they do is send a stuffed animal home with a different kid every night. Blech. Just thinking about all the nasty cooties on that thing makes me need to gag.

The class mascot, it's name is Buffy, is a stuffed rabbit. It is neither feminine nor is it masculine, and it does not have any gender specific color coding on it. Buffy has a set of girl clothes and a set of boy clothes, and each kid takes turns taking the cross dressing/transexual Buffy home. In theory each girl would dress the gender confused rabbit in her all pink clothes, and each boy would rip those off and put the scourge ridden stuffed critter in it's manly Joe Boxers shorts and Spiderman t-shirt. Except for the boys who like to play with make up and dollies, I know they are out there, and I know those boys are dressing Buffy in Mommy's costume jewelry and talking fake English accents.

It was Josh's turn to introduce the infestation known as Buffy to our home during my babes weekend and I was SO happy that I would not be here to participate in dragging the vile thing around with us, because this happens to be another one of my pet peeves. In addition to hating the polyester grimy forest critter visiting with my child several times during his kindergarten year, I hate the whole security object thing even more. None of my kids ever attached to an object (thank goodness) and when I see a kid dragging some tattered worn out thing around whose parents have developed nervous twitches trying to make sure the dirt gray beloved ragged object of their child's affection never gets lost **I drop down to my knees and say a prayer to the powers that be that attached my kids only to my very own fresh and cleaned daily breasts which were not only convenient and easily accessible, but impossible to lose. Unfortunately Josh forget to bring home the little flea infestation over the weekend of my absence, and he brought it home Tuesday. The only thing I really wanted to do with the Bunny was bring it to temple for Yom Kippur and photograph it in a yarmulke. It isn't easy being an almost lone Jew here in Stepford, and I thought that might shake up some of the bible toters around here. That photo would have most definitely been pasted into the lame ass journal that comes home with Buffy. We have to make an entry highlighting all the things we did with Buffy during his visit. What fun! snore.

Josh quickly reassigned his/her gender with some masculine bunny clothes and then brought him to a soccer game I had to photograph, the ice cream hut on the side of the road that I had bribed Josh and Evan with in return for accompanying me to the soccer game, dinner, video games, bath time (Buffy has his own toothbrush) and then in the ultimate gross out disgusting move ever executed since Evan slept with the infernal creature, Josh set up Buffy in his sleeping bag next to him in the bed.

The next morning Buffy accompanied us to the gym, and went with Josh to the kids room, as if the kids room needed more contamination, where some clueless mom of some incredibly insecure 9 year old told us how great she thought stuffed animals were great for boys and that her 9 year old son still carried his around. I was like, "I know a good pediatric shrink, don't talk to my kid you freak" on the inside, but on outside I stifled my impulse to vomit and simply "yessed" her until I could make a quick get-away.

During lunch I had to make yet another bowl of carrots for Buffy, which Josh wouldn't eat because they were Buffy's carrots. And then finally I got to pack him up and send him back to school with my beloved third and final child. The sad thing is that there are 180 days of school and 20 or so kids in the class. This means that theoretically I could get the thing 4 or 5 times this year, which isn't good. The next time he comes home I am totally doing a stop motion movie with him, in which he will either play an evil character or be brutally attacked by the evil character. (And Yes, I was having scissor fantasies involving Buffy and a scissor mishap, but my ex now dead shrink always said that fantasies don't count, it is what we do that counts) Maybe I'll do a Mr. Bill type short... Hmmm.... "OH NO! Buffy got run over by the car!" I'll have to enlist Matt's help in this, but be on the look out, if I have to learn how to use You Tube, I will because this is one of those make lemons into lemonade situations, and next time the thing shows up at our doorstep he will have to have a purpose other than spreading the germs. Heh heh heh.

** I would like to clarify here that I am not talking about a child who snuggles with a lovey to get to sleep, or plays with a favorite toy over and over. I am talking about a child who drags some article of affection around all day long, where ever they go, day in and day out 24/7 and is completely unable to function or cope with their day to day routine with out the comfort of that object at any given moment.

I once sat next to a woman on an airplane who had cat tags engraved with her home address and a reward offering should anyone find the filthy old dolls her five and seven year old children carried with them everywhere. The dolls wore the tags like necklaces and they children were instructed not to remove them-ever. The woman's biggest fear in life was leaving those toys behind somewhere.

Comments

[lilsis]

I am not so sure telling me to read this entry was a good idea as I am a mother whose 2 children are and were "a kid dragging some tattered worn out thing around whose parents have developed nervous twitches trying to make sure the dirt gray beloved ragged object of their child's affection never gets lost". I do not love the stuffed animal thing at kindergarten either but I don't have a problem (obviously!) with a child having a security object. Sooo that being said I agree with the other aspects of this post.