Life On The Front Lines

This afternoon Tate attached himself to a small, wannabe GI Joe type guy. Not literally attached himself, but he carried it around in his little hand all day and would get really upset when he couldn't find it. He brought it to me at one point in the day all teary eyed and held up the guy and his severed arm and asked me to fix it. So I shoved it back in there and saved the day. Way to go Mom!

He still had a good grip on Captain Piece O. Crap when he went to bed and he hadn't been in bed for very long when he came out all sad and teary because Captain Crap had lost his leg. Broke my heart. So I shoved it back in there and saved the day again and sent him back to bed. Problem solved.

NOT!

We repeated this drill at least four times before I got out the super glue and gave Cpt. Crap a medical discharge. I bandaged him up with one of Tess' hairbands and sent Tate back to bed.

There. That should fix it.

HA!

Not more than ten minutes later Tate came out again, in tears again, because the miserable oaf had lost his arm for the second time today. This time, however, the limb couldn't be saved because the little peg thing had broken off inside the body of the toy. Tate sat there all weepy and broken hearted trying to shake it out of there while Jared tried to get him to go back to bed with promises of a real GI Joe come payday...no dice Dad. It was so sad. He wouldn't be parted with his comrade in arms until Jared broke out a new Hot Wheels car, the last of the potty training bribes. He squealed, "This won't get broke?!" and raced to bed. "Noah! Look what I got!"

Poor Captain Crap cannot bend his right leg at the hip and his left arm couldn't be saved...the odds of him avoiding the garbage bag the next time it comes around aren't good.