fuzzy wuzzy isn't funny
I don't like to admit this, but I do have some minor idiosyncrasies.
When I first had my daughter I thought to myself--be careful, you don't want her to pick up any compulsive behavior. So for the last six years, I have been doing my best to pretend I am someone else. She is getting older now and she is catching on...
Before I get into this story I need to tell you I am not a germophobic. My house is not immaculate, although I have a slight Chlorox bleaching addiction.
I don't like people drinking after me and that goes back to my childhood. I also don't drink after anyone, including my own daughter. I don't share food off my plate or double dip anything and anti-bacterial soap is one of my closest friends.
And then there are stuffed animals. B-girl loves them. I hate them. She has too many of course so she doesn't notice when I steal them and subject them to washing, drying or a good Lysol spritz.
B-girl's stuffed animals are one thing because I know where they have been,
but then there is Fuzzy.
Fuzzy is the friend and mascot of Mrs. S's first-grade class. Mrs. S is a good teacher (even for a Wolverine) and I am quite happy with the B-girl's progress this year. There is just one thing about the class that bothers me and that is Fuzzy.
Every day Fuzzy whispers into Mrs. S's ear and chooses a student. That student gets to take Fuzzy home for the evening. Fuzzy has his own case. His case has a scrapbook, reading book and markers in it. The student brings Fuzzy home to spend an evening with the family and has a sheet of paper on which to write (and draw) Fuzzy's adventures for the evening. The student adds the sheet to the scrapbook, Fuzzy sleeps over and returns to class with the student the next morning. Along the way parents began adding pictures of their kid with Fuzzy in the book. The scrapbook is fun for the kids and Fuzzy also comes with his own bedtime book (about him).
Monday night Fuzzy came home to our house. There is already a photo of the B-girl and Fuzzy in the book because he has been to our house once before. I probably do not need to tell you this, but I don't like Fuzzy. Fuzzy is a cute little teddy bear who these kids adore. To me he is a menace. A germ carrier.
I was falsely relieved this time around because I know Mrs. S takes Fuzzy home on the weekends and washes him. This past weekend was the long holiday.
When I got to Daycare to pick the B-girl up she could not wait to show me her friend was back to visit with us.
"Mom look who I got today," she said with joy "Fuzzy".
Trying my best to hide my dismay, I said. "Well hello again Fuzzy."
B-girl looks down for a minute and says to her daycare person,
"My mom doesn't like Fuzzy."
"Why do you say that?" the babysitter said.
"She thinks Fuzzy makes everybody sick," the kid says.
"No I don't" I lied. "I am happy to see Fuzzy...here let me hug him"
I pulled Fuzzy close to my nose and could smell Tide Downy Fresh. That should have made me feel better, knowing it had been washed, but it didn't.
B-girl smiled and Fuzzy came along. Fuzzy went to visit Grandma, had dinner with us, played "Don't break the Ice", read the Fuzzy book and went to bed -- with my kid.
Now, I am no Howie Mandel brand of germophobe (although I do understand where he is coming from). I shake people's hands. Some people at work look at me funny because they think I go to the bathroom 20 times a day. If they followed me in, they would know I am just washing my hands most of the time.
So I wash my hands a lot. Still, I don't live in a bubble.
It's not that I don't like fluffy bears. It's just that passing around this wild animal is not a good idea. When I attended the Halloween Party at school I noticed all the kids passing Fuzzy around BEFORE he WENT HOME with someone that night! All the kids wanted him that day because Fuzzy was wearing a Halloween costume. He was dressed like a clown. I am not clowning around when I say Fuzzy is a dangerous, dangerous bear.
Why oh why does such a great teacher feel it is necessry for these six year old germ magnets to not only spend the day together, but to pass a stuffed animal around like trading cards?
Now that we are embarking on the cold and flu season I must ask is this really necessary? Can't Fuzzy go visit relatives in Florida until Spring, or forever?
These are the times when I wish my daughter would pick up some of my slightly compulsive behaviors. If she were as repulsed by Fuzzy as her mother, I would be glad. Of course B-girl has made it clear that Fuzzy is the subject of her own compulsive, or maybe obsessive, behavior...
At parent teacher conferences Mrs S and I discussed what a wonderful student my daughter is and her progress in all subjects.
"There is one thing," I said to the teacher. "She is preoccupied with Fuzzy. She needs to know every day which student took Fuzzy home and she feels the need to inform me every night. If she isn't paying attention she comes home and says to me 'Mom I don't know who got Fuzzy today' in a very frustrated voice."
"Perfectly normal," said Mrs. S. "The students take a real interest."
"I am sure they do," I said.
I did not say to her what I was really thinking. In my head it goes like this..
What can you be thinking? Letting a stuffed animal, of all things, trounce around in the cars, to public places, to numerous homes of little kids! Everyone knows that all little kids have to do is look at something and they get sick!
Fuzzy is a friend to the child, but sheer torture to the parent. When I see Fuzzy coming I get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Somehow I managed to get through another visit, but I gotta' tell you, that bear is frightening.
Fuzzy went back to school today
and I can rest for another 25 or 26 school days
but deep in the recesses
of my bleached-out brain
I know that one day
when the weather is colder than cold
Fuzzy WILL RETURN!
P.S--today the B-girl came home with a pretty bad cough.
Mmm. Now let me think...