Max came home from kindergarten came with a travel-size bottle of a gel-like substance that health professionals claim cleans soiled hands. His “friend” gave it to him. I wish I could believe him, but Max is the type if kid you have to literally pat down before exiting a store, and he’s always coming home with “prizes”–so if it came from an actual friend or his teacher’s purse, I chose not to investigate. I knew what harm this kid could do with such a substance, but I decided to cautiously allow him to keep it. I am gullible, and forgetful, which many times makes me a parent. My teenage daughter once argued, “You said when I was thirteen I could get a lip piercing,” and I was left wondering, Did I? It’s not impossible.
This funny prankster started his career of jokes early. His first major successful involved sneaking out past bedtime and scaring the crap out of yours truly–very effective. The bubble wrap slid into my pillow case didn’t unfold as he expected which probably involved me placing my head down to the sounds of fire crackers–not so effective.
In the bathroom, Simon’s face contorts after removing his toothbrush from his mouth. “Ew. It still tastes like hand sanitizer.”
“Max put hand sanitizer on my tooth brush,” the older brother clarifies.
With my family’s history of alcoholic issues, I panicked. My son’s liver succumbing to cirrhosis and/or his eyes cease working permanently (because it’s methanol, not ethanol) is a future I cannot risk, I took the contraband away indefinitely.
One can almost visualize the atom splitting. The Manhattan Project has nothing on this kid.
In between endless tears and hyperventilating, out of his mouth spewed:
“How am I going to wash my hands at school now?”
“But what if I can’t there isn’t a sink?”
“You don’t understand Mom!”
“What happened to the sanitizer?”
“That was my hand sanitizer! It meant so much to me?”
“I can’t calm down!”
“That hand sanitizer meant so much to me, Mom! This is the worst day of my life!”
And on, and on, and on, and on, until he fell asleep.