Earlier this morning I posted our Easter pictures, and then I was going to set about putting the house back in order after the holiday weekend, and maybe get something going in the slow cooker for supper. But first I wanted to make some coffee and take a shower. I thought that I could accomplish this because DJ was asleep, and Cakes was happily occupied with her Zhu Zhu pet.
Both girls got one of these silly, battery-operated rodents in their Easter baskets. I didn’t get them at Christmas because they were sold out everywhere, and I refused to buy one online and pay more than retail price. The girls love them and they played all day yesterday with them, so I was pleased with the purchase. Until today.
I was halfway through my morning ablutions when I heard Cakes start shrieking. I ran, half-naked and panicked, into the living room, to find this:
The rotten hamster was stuck in her hair, all the way up to her scalp. I’d heard stories about hair getting caught and wrapped around the gears, so I told the girls to keep the pets away from their hair. But does Cakes listen? Of course not.
I ran to get my phone and call my husband, but naturally the battery was dead, so I plugged it in and grabbed the cordless phone. As soon as I dialed, DJ woke up and started screaming, so I propped the phone under my chin while I changed his diaper, and explained the problem to my husband. First he told me that he couldn’t help me because he had three appointments and wouldn’t be home for hours. Then he laughed and laughed and told me to take pictures.
Yes. Very helpful.
I made Cakes lay on the sofa with the pet stuck in her hair while I nursed her brother, and then I got my little screwdriver set and took the stinkin’ thing apart all the way down to the gearbox.
I spent about 10 minutes pulling and untangling hair, with Cakes saying “OW!” 500 times, and begging me to not cut her hair off. I did have to snip off a small section of hair because I just could not get it untangled, but it could have been much worse. When I was done she didn’t really care if she had a bald spot because she was terribly concerned that I wouldn’t be able to put the stupid hamster back together. I was tempted to just pitch it into the trash but I knew I couldn’t get away with that.
I’m starting to think that whenever I get overconfident and think that I can actually take a shower in peace, the children say, “Ha!” and then get together to commiserate about how they can get me to run naked into the living room with shampoo dripping into my eyes.