2-year-old cheese artisans must be stopped
posted by: gretchen
I asked my 2-year-old son what I should write about for Mile High Mamas.
He answered, “Where’s my cup?”
Sippy cups are evil. Even the ones with valves to prevent spillage are suspect. Don’t let the colorful, fanciful, engaging designs fool you. Embedded in the molded plastic lurks the spirit of spoilage. I don’t care if the cup is an old school chemical festival or BPA-free. Those babies roll and hide and fester until they nearly explode with curdy malevolence.
I’ve found sippy cups under car seats. In July. Why are they forgotten/lost so easily?
It starts innocently.
Toddler is thirsty for milk but you are rushing around because you are meeting 5 other moms and their 35 kids at the zoo in a half hour but you can’t find the preschooler’s shoes and the baby just leaked onto the little outfit with the lion on the front you bought at the Carter’s outlet at the mall last week when you met your sister-in-law for lunch and it would have been perfect because it matches the little bucket hat with the strap, the one with the velcro that still holds tight plus it’s always cute to wear animal-splattered clothes at the zoo kind of like wearing a U2 shirt to a U2 concert oh good here’s her shoes put them on no that’s the wrong foot YES, toddler, pouring your milk right now here it is let’s go, into the van, strap, strap, buckle buckle buckle click click vroom vroom forgot the lunch bags at home turn around don’t throw your cup you are sooooo late but it’s not worth paying $6 for a dumb hot dog the geese will try to steal back home you go got the lunch jump in, zoom to zoo park practically by the museum because it must be a free day who planned this? baby in the carrier, toddler in the stroller, preschooler whining, oh sippy cup is empty why bring it with, you’ll just LEAVE IT AND REMEMBER TO TAKE IT OUT WHEN YOU GET HOME.
But you don’t remember, because it’s just as crazy when you get home—with the bonus of being hot and sleepy and cranky. And the kids are, too.
A week later, after wondering what that smell could be and checking all diapered folk every time you go anywhere, the sippy cup is discovered. It’s resting between the back leg of the bench seat and the interior wall. You may or may not leave it on a median in a mall parking lot.
I’ve learned when the toddler asks, “Where’s my cup?” I should launch a search and rescue team. I involve all the kids. We look in the trash, in drawers, the toy box, under furniture, in laundry baskets, the drawer under the oven, under pillows, in the dog’s bed, behind curtains, inside boots. Often, our hunting expeditions lead to other happy discoveries. We don’t rest until it is found and celebrated, hoisted high and given a parade and a contract extension.
Toddlers outgrow losing milk-filled sippy cups, but they turn into people who lose the ruler with centimeters, barrettes, homework, the remote, the cordless phone. The car keys.
At least car keys don’t turn into something you can crumble and sprinkle on a salad.
This post was originally published in March, 2011.