My children, with my unwitting help and to my horror, made a terrible discovery this week.
They discovered that stuffed animals are washable.
I provided them with all the proof they needed. When a particularly special stuffed animal got drenched in dog slobber, without thinking, the words just popped out of my mouth: "This will probably come clean in the wash!"
Before the words had faded away, I could see the light bulb flicking on in the girls' brains and wished in an instant I could grab those words and stuff them far, far down into the dark depths of never having been uttered.
These little critters?
Were this close to the
landfill Goodwill truck. Look how clean and fun they look now? And no faking out the young ones for me! I had three pairs of eyes watching me like hawks, almost as if they know that I am capable of bold-faced lying to them and saying that I tried to wash them and they just didn't come out as well as Froggy had. Of the big pile they had agreed to part with mere days ago, these just had to come back out. I am still giving away two bags full of overly loved and fairly disgusting animals, but I weep to have to bring even one of them back.
Let this be a warning to mothers everywhere. Never, ever admit to your kids that stuffed animals will not disintegrate in the washing machine.
And also let me go on record as saying that at this point in my motherhood, I Hate Stuffed Animals.
And finally, every so often, will someone please remind me not to do kind things for these people? The results are terrible.