Will the REAL Wubby Please Stand Up?!
Yet again I did something I THOUGHT was kinda’ clever at the time I was doing it.
That should probably be written on my tombstone as certainly this sort of thinking will be the death of me.
Anyway, when we were expecting Mac, I picked up several big packs of those Microfiber car detailing cloths in the automotive section of Target or Walmart. The towels were super soft, absorbent, a good size and they were really bright colors: green, orange, and yellow that complimented some of the accents in his nursery.
These cloths seemed better and better looking than those traditional cloth diapers lots of folks use as burp cloths. So I ended my search for elaborate burp clothes, and snagged about 45 of the microfiber dust cloths. (They were $9.99 for a pack of 15).
We set out to using them right away after Mac arrived and they worked really well. I felt very proud of myself.
When Mac started teething, I noticed he was wedging a corner of the cloth in his mouth. He was becoming a blanket sucker! But the Pediatrician, who couldn’t help but notice he had one hanging out of his mouth at an appointment, said it was perfectly normal.
So we didn’t discourage it.
He was becoming attached to his Wubbys and I was okay with that. I have no problem with children having a comfort item or toy. And how smart was I to get him hooked on such a common item? We had lots of back ups. We could always get more. It wasn’t as if there was just one special Wubby. I had scads of them!
Except my supplies were dwindling. . .Apparently Wubbys are easily ejected from strollers and dropped in parking lots and forgotten in Church. A few month’s back I realized we were reaching a critical level.
I was washing Wubbys EVERY. DAY. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ration them. The kid asks for them by name now “Wubs.” And if I don’t provide one, he helps himself to the stash we keep in a drawer in our living room.
“We need more Wubs.” I told my Husband on a trip to Target.
But when I arrived at the automotive section, I couldn’t find our Wubs. They had similar products but nothing identical. “Hmmm. . .Maybe I bought the original Wubs at Walmart?” I say as I grab a couple of packs of green microfiber glass cleaning cloths. Sure, they didn’t feel quiet as plush as the original Wubs but they were the same size and color. . .
We quickly learned they did NOT pass muster with the Kid. He wanted very little to do with these Wubs. He’d tolerate being offered one in the stroller but if you offered him one before nap time, he’d help himself to an original one from the stash drawer. If we were in the car and offered him an inferior Wubby, he’d refuse to fall asleep until an acceptable one was presented to him.
The Kid is still pooping his pants on a regular basis but his has the sensory ability to know one Wubby is more plush than the other? Blows. My. Mind.
A few weeks passed, and I was spending a decent amount of time rationing out the “good” Wubbys. Each day I’d make sure that I had a reserve of at least four in a top-secret, undisclosed location so we had enough for nap and bedtime. I stopped folding laundry in front of the Kid because if he saw Wubs, he wanted Wubs. . .as many as he could get at once. . .placing each fresh one in his mouth once and then dropping it to the floor and forgetting about it seconds later.
Then last Sunday, Chris casually mentioned to Mac that Mommy didn’t give him a “real Wubby.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I hissed at Chris through clenched teeth. “Don’t tell him that! All Wubbys are real Wubbys! The last thing I need is for this Kid to be demanding real Wubbys all the ding dang day!”
“Ok,” Chris said evidentially realizing how nervous I was over our Wubs supply, “We’ll go birding behind the McComas Street Walmart and run in there and see if we can get some more Wubbys.”
After locating a nice raft of waterfowl (Including male Northern Shovelers in beautiful breeding plumage – which I had not previously seen in this location), we hit the Walmart.
We raced to the automotive section and that’s where I discovered the multi-packs of Wubbys I originally purchased had been altered! They were different colors. They had black thread surged around the edges and they were somehow smoother and more glossy than the ones we had. Balls.
I touched them. These weren’t going to work.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other debating my next move while Chris thwarted Mac’s attempts to take out a display of automotive headlights.
Then, lower on the shelf to my left, I spotted something yellow! Yellow Wubbys!! The ORIGINAL! These were of course being sold in packs of two at a slightly higher price than the “bulk” ones but I was definitely wiling to pay.
I grabbed 3 packs and we were out of there before Mac could further terrorize the merchandise.
I had forgotten how soft and lovely the original Wubbys were. So fluffy! Mac was going to be thrilled when he saw them! Brand New Wubbys!!!!
I washed everything and later that evening I proudly presented Mac with two still warm from the dryer, fluffy brand new Wubs.
He took them from me, touched them for barely a split second and threw them on the floor. Donkey balls.
It’s been a few days and Mac is still rejecting all but the original Wubbys – which apparently have been laundered enough times to make them just right.
And while I’m washing the new Wubs EVERY DAY in an effort to get their texture “just right,” I remind myself to not bother feeling “clever” about anything I do. . .ever again.
This is the REAL DEAL right here!