The Day I Ruined My Son's Life

January 5, 2015; the first day back at school after Christmas vacation. Resolutions aside, I had all sorts of plans for the day once the boys were in school. I only got to about half of those things because, you know, life. But one of the most important things I wanted to do was take care of Micah's Woody dolls. They both needed washed badly, and the soft one needed repaired.

Poor soft Woody, or Black Woody as we call him, because he's permanently stained with filth from so much play time. I noticed yesterday that Woody's neck is..... not doing well. The seam is tearing at both the shirt line and his chin. There is very little holding Woody's head to his body, because his neck is in tatters. I realized that there was no fixing the seams because the fabric was in such bad shape. There was very little fabric to actually sew together. I did the only thing I could to salvage Woody's neck, and that was to remove it. Kind of. I stitched his head pretty much directly onto his shirt, folding his tattered neck shreds inside as I went. It was sturdier, that's for sure, but his legs are nearly as bad as his neck, and there's nothing I can do to fix them. The poor doll probably won't make it through the year.

Headless Woody went into the washer, and was liberally doused with stain remover. It barely helps, but every boost I can add is a bonus.

Micah came home from school and asked where Woody was. I called him down to the sewing room and proudly handed him Newly Fixed Black Woody. The instant Micah's hand wrapped around Woody's neck, he knew there was a problem. It just wasn't right. Woody was.... wrong.  Micah handed the toy right back to me, so I said, as happily as I could, "I fixed him! See? His neck was broken so I had to fix it. He's all better!" The boy didn't buy it for a minute.

I ran upstairs to get Headless Woody out of the dryer, because clearly Black Woody wasn't going to be played with any time soon. When I returned to the basement, Micah was sitting in a corner, looking as forlorn as you'd ever seen a kid look. Woody was sitting on the sofa. Micah pathetically signed, "help." I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to fix Woody, but the problem was, I already had and there was no undoing what I'd done without a head becoming severed altogether. Micah cried bitter tears of heartbreak.

When he stopped crying, I gave him Newly Washed Headless Woody. Micah was glad to see that at least one of his best friends was.... OHMYGOSH, his hand fell off! The hot glue holding Woody's broken hand on had come unglued while tumbling in the hot dryer. I pulled out the glue gun and re-attached the appendage, much to Micah's delight. He went upstairs and danced Woody on the hardwood for quite a while before coming back down and demanding that I fix him again. This time, Woody's boot needed glued. All the dancing that he does is hard on his feet, and his boots just aren't holding up. The heels are completely worn off, and now the boot itself is cracking. Thankfully, hot glue was successful in holding it all together and satisfying Micah for the evening, because losing two of your best friends in one day is more than anyone needs to suffer.

I am not sure either of those dolls is going to make it through to the end of 2015, and we're desperately trying to get Micah to play with one of the many, many other Woody dolls in his toy box, but the boy just won't turn his back on his friends. I just hope the end isn't as bad as I envision it to be.