Squishy Baffffff

Elliot gets very excited about almost anything.  It can be very difficult to deal with at times because honestly, I feel like the only coping mechanism we have at our disposal when he is on a massive adrenaline high about whatever, is a lobotomy ... because then we just wouldn't care about his constant yammering.  Because we'd be brain dead.  And sometimes that's an attractive alternative.

For example ...

Some time ago Elliot saw a commercial for Squishy Baff.  He said it looked like the greatest thing he had ever seen before in his life and made us SWEAR to buy it if we ever saw it.  We agreed just to shut him up.

Mistake number 1.

We saw it.  In the Quinte Mall.  So Curtis bought it for him (on account of our promise we made to him and our promise to ourselves that we never break a promise to our children).

We heard nothing - nothing -  but talk of the Squishy Baff for the remainder of the weekend.  All that came out of Elliot's mouth was talk of trying the Squishy Baff.  When can we DO the Squishy Baff.  Do I need to wear a bathing suit.  Can we fill the tub right up?  Do you promise we can do it when we get to our house?  Do you really promise?  Swear?  It's going to be so much fun!!!  I can't wait for the Squishy Baff!  Mommy and Daddy, don't leave the Squishy Baff at Nana's.  Every. Single. Word.

By Saturday morning even Nana was telling Elliot to shut up about the Squishy Baff already.  (In nice Nana words of course....)

In the car on the way back home - Ok, when we get home, Mommy and Daddy will get the Squishy Baff ready and Charlotte and I will get OUT of our clothes and get ready to just JUMP in when it's all ready.  And Curtis and I just kept telling him to STOP TALKING ABOUT IT.

We made him sit and eat lunch before the "baff" was prepared ... his little butt was moving about like some possessed doll from an 80's horror flick.

FINALLY it was time.

I read the instructions (as I was reading Elliot said you don't need to read the instructions you're a Mommy you already know what to do you just fill the tub with water dump it in and then it's squishy baff and you just sit and watch the kids play that's all you do you don't need to read the instructions because it's really easy and reading the instructions takes too long ---- big BREATH), and while reading the instructions I had a moment of doubt about putting my children in this "safe" chemical that turns water into squishy gel because I really didn't want Elliot to grow a second penis or Charlie to develop a second bellybutton, but it SAID it was safe and I tend to trust fancy packaging ... so I started the water.

And the kids SCREAMED AND SCREAMED with excitement.

They were bouncing around naked chanting squishy baff, squishy baff, squishy baff - Elliot's little penis bouncing up and down, Charlie's arms raised in excitement.  It was a happy moment.  I felt like it was a big accomplishment too - making it to that moment without tying Elliot to a bus bound for Northern Ontario.

At long last the Squishy Baff was ready (on a practical note it took a long time for the "baff" to develop into gel ... this increased the anticipation) and Charlie wanted to be first.  So, much to Elliot's disappointment and frustration I said "ladies first" and picked up Charlie to put her in.

Her big toe on her left foot hit the baff first and she screamed and said nooooooo don't like it don't like it, no Mommy don't want to squishy baff.  And so she was done.

Elliot was panting rapidly behind me so I said, "OK mister - your turn", and picked him up and put him in the baff.

His smile kind of froze on his face oh, this is weird it's like it's like it's squishy  - I smiled and said, "it's SQUISHY BAFF remember?"

I left the bathroom to put some laundry away in the hall and 30 seconds later - 30 seconds - I heard him call my name.

MommyIthinkI'mgoingtothrowupIcan'tbreatheI'mgoingtothrowup.

So, of course I panic, and remember the thoughts of a second penis and think crap, there won't be a second penis, he's just going to suffocate on the fumes, the deadly deadly fumes that are invisible to human eyes.  So I'm trying to extract information from him by asking questions about whether or not his throat is closing or burning ... and I feel my pulse start racing ...

And then he says, no no, Mommy, it's just that I want to barf and I can't breathe because this is kind of gross and yucky.  I just don't like the Squishy Baff because it makes me feel yucky like like I don't like how it feels all over my body.  Like it makes me feel like I'm sick or something.  Can I just get out? 

Seriously.

Mommy, mommy, can you just get me out now?  I need to get out now.

Seriously.

48 freaking hours of non-stop yammering about Squishy Baff and he decides in 30 seconds that he doesn't like it.

Seriously.

I'll have that lobotomy now please.