The Death Of Chuck?

This morning was a little nuts as yesterday my son was playing with my husband’s alarm clock… he always does and I thought nothing of it. Fast forward to 4:35 this morning (my hubby is a baker hence being up at an ungodly hour) I cry out “sh*t hun you’re going to be late for work” in which my husband swears, gets out of bed, brushes his teeth, dresses and runs out the door without any coffee or breakfast. So when I woke up this morning I got myself and the kiddo ready to make a coffee run to bring to daddy. Before we left I made note that Chuck was making noise on the floor, he was tipped over on his side calling out “are you ready? Are you ready?” as he spazzed back and forth. I distinctly remember turning him off as we left the house.

 

We arrived back home, I went to sit on the computer and check the weather (snow’s a coming any day now) and the kiddo ran over to Chuck. Within seconds he brought Chuck over to me with a worried look on his face, he knows how to turn the dump truck on so I gave him a quizzical look and flipped him over, he was on alright but he wasn’t making his obnoxious A.D.D comments. My son looked worried, and I could only inwardly smirk that finally the stupid thing had gone quiet. At the pleas of my son “mommy Chuck!” I got up, unscrewed the back thinking I had just put batteries in this damn thing like what, three weeks ago? Four weeks ago? I pop the batteries and cringe, of course they’re C Batteries, for certain I was sure we had SOME lying around somewhere as I remember we had a stock pile going on as it seems that EVERY single toy dies at once in this house. After looking all over the house I shrugged and told my son that Chuck needed new batteries, he took it in stride and played with him silently for a few minutes until the novelty of playing with a quiet toy wore off. He’s now playing with his laptop as Chuck lies silent on the floor… the worst thing is as much as I’d love for Chuck to finally have met his maker after being abused everyday, being tossed, ran into the wall/couch/mom’s foot ect that my son loves that stupid toy and I know sooner or later he’s going to start freaking out that Chuck is no longer working. Now I’m just hoping it’s the batteries and will have to ask Vanity Dad where they are, if we don’t have any it’ll be an emergency run to Toys R Us for overpriced batteries to keep our darling little boy happy (more or less CONTENT) and bring Chuck back to life, if we can’t spark that annoying voice back then we might have to grin and bear replacing him.

Advertisements

About vanitymom

I'm here to talk about not only the joys of motherhood but also the (not so much joys) of living in a high society world that you're judged upon your looks... where I live you need to be a 7 to gain beach access, an 8 to walk around half naked in the summertime and atleast a 9 to hold your head up high. I'm Vanity Mom. I will be talking about things such as parenting (of course) beauty tips for moms, exercise, and eating healthy... all while doing this with a kid biting the hell out of your leg because he's teething.
This entry was posted in Parenting, Toys and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to The Death Of Chuck?

  1. Ah yes – I just tell my boys when a toy starts spazzing (a la Elmo) that “oh no, mommy needs to get more batteries.” They are just happy that it’s not broken – so it pacifies them. I was surprised that my boys accept this answer as being enough! Unfortunately, I STILL need to get batteries so now I have to deal with a spazzing Elmo because they still try to play with him. I’m interested in checking out your blog!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s