I will be Moving Your Cheese.

A few years ago everybody seemed to be reading the book “Who Moved my Cheese?”  It’s a book that discusses managing and embracing change.  We need to insert reading this book into our bedtime routine.  Soon! 

The urgency of this need smacked me right on the head when we were at the sporting goods store in Fargo.  We told Joey that we needed to find him some new tennis shoes because his Heelys are trashed.  He cried. 

Who cries about getting new shoes?  It’s not like we were trying to stick him with a cute little pink pair of Bratz or Dora the Explorer shoes. 

Replacing the drawer pulls in the kids’ bathroom triggered a negative reaction.  Apparently, Joey had a bond with the old scratched up brass hardware.  He clearly HATES change and has resisted it since he was a baby.  Throwing anything away requires an act of bribery or coersion of the highest order.   Joey has a collection of Willy Wonka candies from last Halloween that he keeps in a big zip lock bag in his dresser.  Every drawing or doodle he has ever done must be kept.  Joey inspects garbage cans for violations of his no disposal rule.   Christmas scares me because there’s so much intake and so little output of toys.   Every year I pray Santa will fill up his big sack with toys from our house and take them with him.  We’re running out of room!  And the cheese guard does not take breaks.

Anytime I throw something of Joey’s away, he manages to find it in the garbage.  He’s not buying the “accidentally” threw it away story anymore.   Last year, Joey had built an entire Hermit Crab Village of mazes and obstacle courses from cardboard.  There was a large styrofoam packing lid that he converted into a crab playground.  There were cubes and tunnels for the hermit crabs to run around in.  At one point, there were about 7 cardboard or styrofoam contraptions stuffed under his bed and tucked into corners of the room.  These were not little objects, they were huge.  Finally, after a few weeks of not being played with anymore, I tossed most of them in the garbage except for the playground that he had put a lot of work into.  My timing was perfect since the cleaning ladies were coming that day – and they don’t speak English.

After picking up the boys at school, Joey jumped out of the car and marched into the house as if guided by a sixth sense that something was amiss.  I was in the yard with Jake for about 2 minutes when Joey appeared in their bedroom window yelling,  “YOU.  NEED.  TO.  FIRE.  THOSE.  CLEANING.  LADIES!”   

Unfortunately, fire hazards and housing condemnation are not concepts that he understands.   I will make sure to cross Housing Inspector off the list of potential careers for this kid. 

~ by karmental on March 5, 2008.