Last night Fiddledaddy commented to me, “Don’t you think it’s weird that our son sleeps with an ice pack?”
Weird is subjective, frankly.
I think it’s weird that he used to lick electrical outlets. It was weird when he tried to flush his own head down the toilet. It’s weird when he drops trow in public places.
The ice pack really doesn’t phase me.
I am in possession of a large commercial ice pack which I bought when I was enduring unnecessary surgeries on my knee. The ice pack was my friend. As was Tramadol and Oxycodone. And old Twilight Zone episodes. But I gave up the ice pack when I was back on my feet. (The Tramadol and Oxycodone went by the wayside as well, for the record.)
A couple of years ago, we discovered the healing comfort of ice cold on Jensen’s atopic dermatitis flare-ups. If he had a particularly bad flare up, we’d throw the ice pack over him when all else failed. One night, in the dead of winter, he chose to sleep with it. Just in case there was a middle-of-the-night flare up.
He’s been sleeping with it ever since.
As long as someone (ME) remembers to replace it in the refrigerator every morning.
This didn’t happen yesterday morning.
So last night when Jensen was climbing into bed, he was dismayed that the ice pack was still there, tepid at best. Jensen asked his dad to flash freeze the ice pack, and then bring it to him at some point in the night when the pack was suitably frigid. Fiddledaddy at first tried to talk him out this plan, “Dude, when I checked on you last night you were huddled under all your blankets PLUS a sleeping bag. I think the ice pack makes you cold!”
Jensen looked up at his father with big blue eyes blinking, “Just do it, dad.”
And so, after a suitable time for freezing, a boy slept soundly with his Blues Clues blanket and trusty ice pack (which I keep wrapped securely in a pillow case for washing purposes).
I’m sure that some day I will carefully pack it away next to all the other cherished childhood possessions.
Which will be a shame because I have been known to wear it atop my head during child-induced headache episodes.
There’s a marketing angle somewhere in there that the ice pack people have yet to think of.
Your turn. Weirdest item your kid sleeps with?