I just saw something horrifying on the news! You know the pretty little canisters that hold the Tide Soap Pods that I just toss in the washer and forget? Well, I had one near catastrophe with them so far. I tossed it into the washer part, it hit the spindle in the middle of the tub and ricocheted between the tub and the liner. To the best of my knowledge it is probably disintegrated, or a least I hope so. But worse then that, they are now going to make the canisters child proof! Remember what I told you yesterday about that? I thought I was safe in the laundry. What kid actually wants to eat soap? Apparently there are a lot of them out there!
Oh, when mine were young they ate soap a time or two before they learned acceptable language and the words I use are two entirely different things! Now they did snack on the ex-lax once. That was Debbie and Dorothy Renee. I do not think either of them eats chocolate to this day. As I recall, if there was something we did not want them to ingest we put it up very high and if we caught them near anything we had told them "no" to, there was a little thing called "swat your hiney" that we played. This was our idea of positive reinforcement. We also knew how inquisitive the little bugger were so we used a tactic called "watching the kids." No doubt we were infringing on thier privacy, but trust me here; a trip to the emergency room infringes on a lot of my rights. So we did it.
There were other cruelties we did to them. I liked to put them in "time out." Time out usually meant that they would fall asleep and I could get a break. Course since I ended up a single mother and child support enforcement at that time was a big joke, the kids were usually under the care of a "babysitter." This was a person who was paid to come into my home and do the "watch the kids thing" while I worked. I had a very lovely lady name Mrs. McIver who came daily and the kids loved her. She read to them and took them for walks and all the things I never had time to do. There was another lady who came when Mrs. McIver could not. Her name was Ida Mae. She was a very quiet lady and did her job of "watching" them. This coupled with the fact that she had about 14 whiskers on her chin that were 5-9 inches long made them fear her. She always brought them candy, but they never accepted it. Could have been the ex-lax factor there.
Getting to the point here. As an old lady with stiff fingers I am living in terror of what they are going to devise to keep me out of my Tide Pod container. If they just secure the lid I think I can get the butcher knife and cut the top off and throw it away. But if they make the container itself heavier, I have to be careful. I have scars from trying to chop away the heavy plastic and since my skin is getting thinner the kids are starting to hide my knives. I think this is why old people end up in the nursing homes! We are confronted on a daily basis with challenges on these damn child proof things. So we don't use soap in the laundry, we don't take our pills, and even the bottle of milk sets on the shelf because we can not grab that tiny ring (assuming we know it is there and we can see it).
It is just easier to go to the nursing home and let them do it for us. Then we get in there and find out they got the laundry mixed up and I now wear underwear that need to be held up with a safety pin and a bra that perches on the tips of my nipples.
I am telling you, this old age shit is for the birds!
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Oh, when mine were young they ate soap a time or two before they learned acceptable language and the words I use are two entirely different things! Now they did snack on the ex-lax once. That was Debbie and Dorothy Renee. I do not think either of them eats chocolate to this day. As I recall, if there was something we did not want them to ingest we put it up very high and if we caught them near anything we had told them "no" to, there was a little thing called "swat your hiney" that we played. This was our idea of positive reinforcement. We also knew how inquisitive the little bugger were so we used a tactic called "watching the kids." No doubt we were infringing on thier privacy, but trust me here; a trip to the emergency room infringes on a lot of my rights. So we did it.
There were other cruelties we did to them. I liked to put them in "time out." Time out usually meant that they would fall asleep and I could get a break. Course since I ended up a single mother and child support enforcement at that time was a big joke, the kids were usually under the care of a "babysitter." This was a person who was paid to come into my home and do the "watch the kids thing" while I worked. I had a very lovely lady name Mrs. McIver who came daily and the kids loved her. She read to them and took them for walks and all the things I never had time to do. There was another lady who came when Mrs. McIver could not. Her name was Ida Mae. She was a very quiet lady and did her job of "watching" them. This coupled with the fact that she had about 14 whiskers on her chin that were 5-9 inches long made them fear her. She always brought them candy, but they never accepted it. Could have been the ex-lax factor there.
Getting to the point here. As an old lady with stiff fingers I am living in terror of what they are going to devise to keep me out of my Tide Pod container. If they just secure the lid I think I can get the butcher knife and cut the top off and throw it away. But if they make the container itself heavier, I have to be careful. I have scars from trying to chop away the heavy plastic and since my skin is getting thinner the kids are starting to hide my knives. I think this is why old people end up in the nursing homes! We are confronted on a daily basis with challenges on these damn child proof things. So we don't use soap in the laundry, we don't take our pills, and even the bottle of milk sets on the shelf because we can not grab that tiny ring (assuming we know it is there and we can see it).
It is just easier to go to the nursing home and let them do it for us. Then we get in there and find out they got the laundry mixed up and I now wear underwear that need to be held up with a safety pin and a bra that perches on the tips of my nipples.
I am telling you, this old age shit is for the birds!
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