The Marble and Other Unsafe “Lovies”

The marble.

How many two year olds get attached to a marble?

Before you judge me, just know that I got home from work one evening and found the kid with the marble clutched to his chest as if it was the fluffiest, sweetest teddy bear you’ve ever seen. I point no fingers at my husband. Really.

Sweet Cuddly Marble

When the kid fell asleep that night I pried the marble out of his chubby little fingers and hid it. But the next morning he remembered the marble and had. to. have. it. immediately. Or there would be a shitstorm in the middle of getting the older kids dressed, fed, lunches made, homework signed, dog walked, cat barf washed off floor, etc. There was no time for a shitstorm. So I handed the marble to the child.

(The voice of my beloved late Uncle Sam was in the back of my head: Better for the child to cry now then the adult to cry later. But the dog was about to take a dump on the living room rug. And someone was freaking out because he couldn’t get a sock on correctly. Fuck it, Uncle Sammy. I’ll deal with the marble later!)

The marble is not the first impossible small comfort item that my kid has had. Before the marble there was the little red Lightning McQueen race car. He had to have two Lightning McQueens at all times. You know, for symmetry.

I have had nightmares in which all I can hear is my two-year old wailing “AQUEEN! AQUEEN! WHERE YOU, LIGHTAQUEEN!?”

It wasn’t until I’d generously paid for a month of private school for one of the Disney Cast Member’s children via Lightning McQueen purchases (via Target) that the dear boy moved on to the marble.

It can’t be any marble, either, it must be The Blue Marble. You know, the one that disappears for hours at a time and is inevitably located under the refrigerator or in the dark dirty abyss that exists underneath our oven. I shudder.

Why does my two year old refuse to attach to a normal “lovie?”

Why not a blanket? A stuffed animal? Even one of my old bras?

Is it because said two year old is obsessed with nursing the “Shoon” and “Shoonahhh” with the ardency of a fast food addict sitting in front of a Beefy Crunch Burrito? Is it because he is so attached to these fleshy, barely still milk producing mammary glands that he rejects any other soft thing and instead insists on carrying around the beloved blue marble?

I venture to say: Yes.

I am weak in The Weaning Department.

I Will Fuck Up Your Morning

I am afraid to explain to the teachers of the synagogue’s Busy Bee nursery school class that despite its age-inappropriate, choking hazard nature, this little blue marble is actual a comfort item for this kid. It’s either that, or I figure out how to leave my breasts at school for the 2.5 hours he’s there.

So for now, I will continue to keep track of that blue marble. And I will watch that kid and his mouth and his trachea like a freaking hawk until he moves on to the next comfort item. Please, oh please, just let it be soon. And let it be big and soft and not attached to my body. How about my husband’s testicles?

*photo of Theo by David Friedman

35 thoughts on “The Marble and Other Unsafe “Lovies”

  1. Let’s just hope the next perfect comfort item is not a sewing needle or a mouse trap. I guess I shouldn’t complain that my step-daughter still loves her ripped up blanket. At least I don’t have to worry about a choking hazard. The things we must do.

    • Blanked are perfect! (Except if they go missing.) So much better than the weapon type lovey. :-) I can’t tell you how many little silk blankets I’ve tried to foist on this kid. Ah, well.

  2. kvetchmom…i adore you. period.

    oh. and ps: my son had a phase of marble attachment. literally. he taped them all over his body one day. yes. even there. like right on the very tip.

    he’s nine now. and i made him a manly necklace last summer. he has yet to take it off.

    be well.

  3. When my youngest was 18 months old she was attached to bottles of nail polish. Then it moved on to keys, but not just any key. It had to be the smallest key should could find. I have no idea how any of this happened.

    • Jessica, I love you! You make me feel so much better about the marbles! Can you just imagine what a tiny key or marble would look like on X-Ray film. I shudder to think. I’m sure E.R. docs see it all. I just hope they don’t see us!

  4. I spent the weekend with my 23 year old (it was his birthday). We went wine tasting and “sake bombing” (I was the designated driver so I got to watch my nerdy husband and son bond with alcohol which is something my husband never does). After the second sake bomb, my son brings up Blue Bear. “Remember when we left Blue Bear in that hotel and you wouldn’t go back to get him (my son was ten at the time)? How come you went back to get Pink Kitty when Kelly forgot her in Toon Town? How come . . . .?”
    Awe, motherhood. You have years and years of losing your marbles to come. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy reading your blog.

    • Anne, I love your positive spin on the marble! He is still pretty hit or miss on the colors. I think he knows blue because he hears my husband and me saying “Oh God, where’s the blue marble?!” “Have you found the blue marble??” all the time. :)

    • Alexandra, Why? Why does Thomas the train have to be so expensive? They know kids lose them left and right. Maybe that’s why they had George Carlin narrate some of the episodes? To imply the “you’re fucked now” part of expensive childhood toy obsessions?

  5. Oh the fuss we had this morning when we got to the van and my son realized that he forgot his Lightening daQueen racecar in the house! I tried giving him a different red car that was already lying on the floor of the van and he flung it at his sister.

    • Ha ha! Don’t you love the angry flinging of offensive toys? That always makes my day. It’s not enough that we need to remember diapers, wipes, bottle/sippy, etc. etc. but also the correct teeny tiny toy.

  6. My daughter hasn’t attached to a blankie or a stuffie but she’s attached to her soother. Her “me me” she calls it. We have 500 of those things floating around this house and we still can’t manage to find one in a moment of crisis.
    It’s her best friend and she loves it.
    As long as she’s happy I’m not too worried.

    • Leighann, I am ALL about the soothers, “me mes,” tatees, beebees, shoonahs, whatever helps a kid feel calm and secure. My seven and eight year old still love their blankies and it doesn’t bother me one bit. Life is freaking hard and being a kid is hard. Everyone deserves to have a “me me.” We have special hiding spots for duplicate blankies, as in break the glass in case of emergency blankie loss. Maybe you can hide a few soothers in places only you & your partner know about? XOXO

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