The Ice Pack

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?


13 Responses to The Ice Pack

  • Cans of Chicken Noodle Soup

  • My kids can’t go to sleep without “mama-power” which is just a blow on the hand, usually. I convinced my oldest many years ago that if I did this magical thing, he and I would be together all night, and he would not experience any separation from me. This enabled me to sleep in my own bed, for which I will be forever grateful. Now that he is almost 14, he does manage to sleep without me or any imaginary piece of me. But the little ones have carried on the tradition, and can’t sleep without an imaginary piece of me.

  • Oh, Becky, that is weird. Sorry, but there is a story there . . .

  • my youngest slept with a winter cap on her head when she was three.
    Then she told us it was to keep the flies out of her ears!
    Now she tells us it looked like flies were in the air at night.
    Poor baby!

  • My son had a bunch of things he would line up in his crib, when he was about 20 mos – 2 1/2 yrs old. They included a potato, tennis ball, green pencil eraser he took from his grandfather, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I cannot remember (he is now 23). I still have the eraser, not sure what happened to the potato.

  • The oldest sleeps with a crowbar under his pillow. #3 sleeps with a ball peen hammer and a tupperware “sli-saw-all” (thank you google for the images so I knew what to call his gadget!). They are 12 and 7. We have ZERO history of break ins, but these two are convinced that a robber is going to come into their second story windows and they will be the ones to save the family. Nevermind the fact that they both sleep like dead men.

  • At least he sleeps!!!! 😉

    • Amen to that! I’d buy an extra ice pack just for emergency “unfrozen” moments if it promised a good night’s sleep!

  • She was autism spectrum and not a good sleeper. Chicken noodle soup was her favorite thing and she carried 2 cans around all day…that lead to soup going to bed with her. Pick your battles!

    • That makes a lot of sense to me. My nephew is on the autism spectrum and always had to have a plastic kitchen utensil spoon with him. Sometimes that isn’t picking the battle – it’s WINNING the battle.

  • Spoons! Both my kids slept with spoons, our son walked in his sleep and wanted to be ready to eat at any moment I guess. Daughter would rub the inside of it with her thumb while she slept. Pick your battles, both are grown and no one still brings a spoon to bed with them.

  • I kind of love that Becky just threw out “cans of chicken noodle soup” with no explanation. I am easily amused.

  • On occasion, my oldest daughter sleeps with a bathtub faucet protecter thing.

    The story: When I was pregnant with her, the nursery theme was rubber duckies. Nice and gender neutral because we didn’t know what brand of baby we were getting. My mother-in-law got us a very cute duckie themed bathtub set for babies and one of the pieces was a soft fabric cover that went over the faucet of the bathtub. That was great, but I already had a faucet protector, so I stuck the whole shebang in the basement and forgot about it. Flash forward a couple (three? four?) years and I’m cleaning the basement. I found the duckie faucet protector and pitched it into the pile of stuff to share with people who don’t live in my house. Daughter comes downstairs to get a hug before nap, sees the duckie and falls madly in love. I agree that she can have it for naptime, but after that, it must go. Naptime comes and goes and bedtime arrives. Tears ensue and I give up and let her have the {insert epithets here} duckie. A week goes by, the duckie has been cast aside for other friends in her bed, so I sneak in and grab it and hide it, intending to get it out of the house. THAT VERY NIGHT she asks to sleep with it for bed and when Husband can’t find it, TEARS. She’s 7.5 now and we still have the {more epithets} duckie.