There are a gazillion people in this world, and on Monday we all did different things. Some people saved lives. Others carried out justice. A few million educated ‘the minds of the future’ (aka little people).
And I……washed a booster seat.
I’m pretty sure I’ve blogged about our booster seat before. Or at least complained about it on Facebook. If subjected to medical testing, it would probably test positive for H1N1. Or typhoid. It has served us well these last six years, but particles of food have crept into every available nook and cranny and the straps are nothing short of a major health hazard.
I’m sure there are people in this world who disinfect their children’s booster seats after every meal. Or at least wash it ‘real good’. But I’ve gotten increasingly lax with each additional child. At this point, I just try to make sure Percy has a relatively clear seat on which to perch his bum: a space free of crusty food bits that might dig into his little legs.
But on Monday….the sun was shining for the second day in a row. And I was temporarily fooled into thinking Spring might arrive, if not imminently, at least…eventually. ‘When’s the first day of Spring,’ the professor called to me whilst walking around the house looking for something. ‘Is it April 20th or 21st?’.
‘March….20th’ I corrected. Ever the bearer of bad news. ‘Oh,’ he sighed, genuinely crestfallen. Yes, darling, Spring isn’t ‘coming’ per se…it’s already supposed to be here.
But enough about the meteorological disappointments of life in the frozen prairie. This was supposed to be about a booster seat.
Percy was napping and I’d decided it was time to scrape the 6 week old stains off the dining room floor. And then my eyes landed on that booster seat; the crusty, white plastic chair with the scary ‘blue’ straps. And I decided I would ‘carpe diem’ and clean that sucker.
Which….involved a screwdriver. (Call me lazy, but if the manufacturers intended for me to clean the seat often, it shouldn’t require a screwdriver.) I found a screwdriver (a minor miracle in and of itself), I unscrewed ten very sticky screws. And then I spent ten minutes trying to get the straps out of the seat so I could wash them.
I placed every last part in the dishwasher – crossing my fingers that nothing would melt. The Hen was simultaneously fascinated and frightened by what I was doing. ‘Mom’s washing the baby seat….in the dishwasher,’ he informed his older brother. And his dad. When they came home.
At the end of the washing cycle, I retrieved the various plastic parts with trepidation. But they looked as I remembered them….only exceptionally clean. ‘Like new’ some might say. I’m not sure I would have been any more pleased with myself if I’d managed to find the cure for typhoid. (Oh wait, is there a cure for typhoid?)
And then I left all the booster-seat-pieces in a pile on the floor for two days because I didn’t have the energy to re-assemble it.