Big Hair Inspiration...Taking Maximum Hold of Your LifeBIG HAIR Inspiration: This Spud's For You

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

This Spud's For You


In the week following The TiVo Incident, I’m pleased to announce we now have a new unit. Right now, it’s purring along, recording “Last Comic Standing” and “My Gym Partner is a Monkey.”

Now that we have a new TV, I had to figure out how to get rid of the old one. It’s not like you can just shove a 48-inch rear projection boob tube on wheels into a corner and throw clothes over it. That’s what a treadmill is for.

I found a local charity that will come and pick up our TV, along with the broken VCRs, CD players and Wang Chung audio cassettes that take up space in our garage.

I am not one of those people that hang on to “stuff.” At least three times a year, I bundle up donations of clothing, shoes and “The Idiot’s Guide to Decorating Your Home with Messy Kids and No Money” book series.

I may not stop there.

This evening, I was playing on the floor with my toddler, J., when he started extracting things from his over-crowded toy box. First came a parade of plastic toys. I felt a twinge of guilt when I counted the toys and compared it to the number of French fries and chicken nuggets he wolfed down to get them.

Next came tattered board books, a baby rattle and some plastic blocks.

“Look, Mommy!” J. said, clawing at the bottom of the box. “An animal cracker!” Before I could reach it, J. popped a half-eaten camel into his mouth. I was about to grab my “Idiot’s Guide on What to Do When Your Child Eats Cookies with Cooties” from the donation pile when he saw them.

The shoes. The moustache. The blue derby hat.

He had found Mr. Potato Head’s Parts.

Screaming with glee and clearly not wheeling from the cootie-coated cracker, J. took my hand and ran to the garage. “I want Mr. Potato Head, Mommy! Plllleeeeease, Mommy!”

Uh, oh. This is trouble.

There's a reason this Silly Spud is in the garage. The head had spooked J. when we presented it on his first birthday. On this specific toy model, you press a button and all the parts fly off his face. It’s not one of Hasbro’s brighter ideas, in my opinion.

Obviously, J. was too dizzy from the Trans fat in his French fries to remember. But he was excited, so I thought we could try again.

We placed Mr. Potato Head on the coffee table, and inserted his arms, red nose with mustache, and black-rimmed glasses.

J. pushed the button. WHAM! Mr. Potato Head came to life. With a sardonic chuckle, his private “parts” scattered in every direction. One piece grazed my ear. Another soared into the ceiling fan. The last piece hit our greyhound squarely between the eyes. She yelped, jumped up and ran for cover in our laundry room.

J. was horrified. His eyes welled with tears and he begged me to take Mr. Potato Head back to the garage.

So now, Mr. Potato Head is – once again – banished to the garage where he will live out his days among old yearbooks, suitcases and holiday decorations.

Or maybe…just maybe…I can swap him out with a Mr. Mister cassette single.

6 comments:

Sarahviz said...

You do realize, don't you, that Mr. Potato Head is out there in the garage, plotting his revenge?

Unknown said...

I've always said that Mr. Potato Head was nothing but trouble. Especially when he leaves his "private parts" lying around for all to step on.

Anonymous said...

LOVED the "private parts" joke. You're funny! Maybe this 110 degree heat agrees with you???

Crystal said...

I will now giggle everytime I see Mr. Potato Head...and his bucket o "parts"....

Heather said...

Private parts...HAHAHA!! Love it.

We had a similar situation here with the Tumble Time Tigger. That thing caused such stress to Brother that I'm sure it will take years of therapy to undo.

Heather said...

Hey, where'd you go? I'm tired of making nice with Mr Potato head's private parts when I come here :)