Ok, a warning...I'm going to let my crazy card show a little bit with this post. I know, it's irrational. But that doesn't stop me from thinking it.
Let's take a step back -- way back to 1995. The end of the movie Jumanji -- you know the scene where the two little girls find the game after it washes up? You are just left knowing they are now on a course they cannot control.
This summer, I found my Jumanji. It called to me; I couldn't pass it up. It was the only one in Henry's size. It was covered in monkeys {or gorillas in Hen speak} -- Henry's favorite. The beautiful, perfect {almost too perfect} Carter's fleece one piece pajamas.
I was at a huge garage sale. The tables were stocked full of stuff -- for girls. There was one table in the back with boys clothes on it. I asked for Hen's size when the lady informed me that she had a baby boy so the only boy stuff was the stuff he had already outgrown. Among all the clothes, were the pajamas -- the only 18 month sized anything there -- marked $1.00. I was giddy! What a deal!
WRONG. I think I know why they were in that pile Why, there was exactly one 18 month sized anything.
Since picking up these pajamas, Henry has NEVER slept through the night while wearing them. NEVER EVER. The first few times, I didn't put together the connection. But overtime, it has never failed. It has gotten to the point where I avoid and dread these pajamas. I refused to put them on Henry unless I have zero other options.
These pajamas are my Jumanji. They send me through a whirlwind of torture, then in the morning everything is the same and they, so innocently, sit there.
I want to get rid of them. For real. No, seriously. This is crazy, right? Still, I don't care. Just like the lady before me, I want to innocently dump them somewhere. Pass along the problem.
On a related note, I think I need to make a trip to Goodwill this weekend.
I know, I'm a horrible person. Someone please tell me I'm not alone -- someone else has to have cursed baby stuff. Right?
