Do you believe in magical clothes. I do. Except that clothes are usually possessed with evil magic. Not the good kind.
Kind of like that dress that looks fabulous on the mannequin, and then looks fabulous when you try it on at the store, but the second you pay for it and put it on again it looks like you have grown an extra appendage from your lower back? Evil magic clothes. That's what it is.
Our latest evil article of clothing is t-shirt. What could go wrong with a t-shirt, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.
It is a cute little t-shirt with guitars on it, bought for our cute little guitar loving Monkey. It seemed so perfect. In fact, I believe it was even on sale (magic clothes usually are.) But he has never worn it a full day without some horrible disastrous mess occurring. Ever.
Like the one day that we were in a huge hurry to get out the door, so I told everyone to eat their cereal at lightening speed. Monkey tried. And then his cereal bowl threw itself at the evil guitar shirt and spilled the ENTIRE THING, drenching him and his brother in the chair to him with soggy frosted flakes.
Or like the time that we had someone coming over, and just before the doorbell rang Monkey tried to steal a sip of his sister's chocolate milk. The evil guitar shirt had convinced Monkey that he had mastered the skill of drinking from open cups when in fact the child can no more drink from a cup than he can from a shoe. So I was caught cleaning chocolate milk off my son, the floor, and every other hard surface that splashing milk could adhere to.
And then today was beyond horrendous. Surely the magic of the shirt is growing stronger. I knew I was testing things when I put it on the Monkey this morning. But it is a well known fact that if you can get through an entire day without magical mishap then the curse is broken. (What, you didn't know that? )
I thought I had won. I thought that since we had made it through 8 hours of the day unscathed that I could just walk away and count the battle of magic over. Alas, it was not so.
About 20 minutes ago Monkey came up to me to show me his fingers. His cute chubby fingers - covered in poo. That's right. POOOOOOO. The magic was powerful, causing the Monkey's colon to involuntarily spew all of it's contents into an unsuspecting diaper. This diaper was no match for that kind of magic, and the poo leaked through everywhere. And then Monkey decided to smear.
Poo body art is not good. Luckily he didn't get far.
And now the crap covered guitar shirt (as well as his undershirt and shorts) are sitting on my washer awaiting a watery grave. Or just the washing machine. Whatever. If the shirt weren't so cute I would totally flush it. Also, I'm extremely stubborn and I will win this battle. How can I let myself be bested by it? It would be shameful. So, bring it on evil t-shirt, BRING IT ON!