The Pullover Incident

Those of you who read this blog or know Sam know that he develops random, fickle attachments to things. The first one I remember was Farmer Jed, the Fisher Price Little People farmer. At one point I even got on eBay to determine if it would be possible for me to stock up on Farmer Jed should he go missing. For awhile it was a little plastic zippered bag in which he carried two pairs of Incredibles underpants (a future Boy Scout perhaps?).

There have been various Batman action figures (Grey Batman, Red Batman, Blue Batman, Black Batman and you'd better know the difference). Recently he's fond of a blue Power Ranger that rides a blue and white motorcycle. As of this weekend, it is a zipper-front pullover from Osh Kosh that he got for Christmas last year. Until this weekend it had been in storage, but when the weather turned cool (82 degrees) I got it out.

Yesterday we left it at school.

Now I'm not the most passionate person. Other than my kids, our photo albums and a couple of keepsakes there aren't many things I have that would bring me to my knees if I misplaced. So that is why I tried to be patient with Sam when he realized we were heading home without this magic pullover.

There was high-pitched screaming, tear-stained cheeks, flailing (as much as a car seat will allow) and the choked sobs of "It's Mama's fault! It's gone forever! Get it for me and I'll be happy!" (All the while however, he managed to chew a huge piece of Bazooka.)

I feared he would be able to get out of his seat and then he would be loose in the car like a mad hornet. And then I worried that at any minute the aforementioned blue Power Ranger and motorcycle would hit me in the back of the head, retribution for my forgetfulness.

Needless to say it was a long drive home. The saving grace was that Sam's tantrum was quite entertaining to Jake. He just stared, mouth agape, the entire drive home.

A few minutes after we got home and Sam tattled to Bryon, he cooled off. "I'm sorry I was mad at you," he finally told me.

The first thing we did at school this morning was seek out the pullover and thankfully it was there, abandoned in the 'cutting' station. And for all the outpouring of emotion the night before the reunion was disappointing. I thought he might clutch the pullover tenderly, "Oh pullover! How I missed you! We will never part again." But no, he put it in his cubby and went about his day.