The Saga of Footsie Pajamas and Pull-Ups

I awoke to a high-pitched, curl-your toes, strike-fear in your core scream from my children's room. It was exactly 7:00 a.m. It took me a couple of moments to get oriented. The scream did not stop, slow-down, or change pitch. It was like hearing Barbra Streisand in terror. No one has lung capacity like her.

I jumped from my bed. I couldn't even tell which child it came from. I ran down the hall and into the room which Sugar Princess and Aramis (4-year old) share. There Aramis lay on his Thomas the Tank Engine blanket, his rocket footsie pajamas zipped to his groin, wailing in agony. After months of whining and trying, he had FINALLY succeeded in going 7-days without bed wetting. The reward? Not having to wear pull-ups to bed. Last night was day ten and everything had been going very well. I guess he woke up this morning, went to the bathroom, returned to his bed and lay down. It was then he decided to zip up his footsie pajamas. NEVER zip up your footsie pajamas laying down when you don't have a pull-up on.

His penis was caught in the rocket pajamas. Now, I have my repertoire of Mother skills that I have honed to Mary Poppins perfection over the past twelve years, but I have not mastered this one. Having three boys in our home, D'Artagnan the man usually takes care of situations like this. However, he was not at home. That left me to wrangle with a tiny penis and a zipper that felt like "alligator's teeth."

Needless to say, I have now added a new skill to my Mom arsenal.

Aramis will probably be BEGGING me to wear his pull-up tonight.