Some months ago, I got the idea that a lot of Camper Boy's aggravation was the lack of ability to work on calming himself down, and, ever the DIYer, I decided Pinterest must, in all its infinite wisdom, have the answer. Lo and behold, I was not disappointed, and soon came upon the concept of Calm Down Jars. If you are a Pinterest fiend with children, you may have seen these clever devices. They are sparkly and colorful and sometimes filled with small floaty items. The idea is that when a child is upset due to overstimulation or what have you, you shake the jar, sit them down in a quiet space and let them watch the glitter and swirls settle, and by that time they're redirected and calm enough to continue on with their day without hassle. Or at least for the next 30 seconds. I thought, really, what could it hurt? And so I acquired a mason jar, some glitter, and light colored spikey balls to put in it, thinking I wanted a few more items in Camper Boy's jar, and then when he goes bonkers from boredom, we'll dig it out and let him watch and all will be well. But the project sat. And sat. I was missing ingredients and didn't want to start until I had everything I felt I needed.
This morning, Husband went to school, as is customary for Tuesdays and Thursdays, and so as is normal for us EVERY morning, I started Camper Boy's movie, got him some juice and cereal, and made sure he was comfortable and happy. And then I slipped down the hall for another few minutes of peace before forcing myself to get dressed, break down his bed and make the camper normal for the day. The next time I peeked to check on Camper Boy, the bottle of glitter that I had stashed in the catch-all shelf above the kitchen sink was no longer in said shelf. It was open, and its contents were ALL OVER THE BED/COUCH.
As you might expect, my gut reaction was NOT, "Aww, how cute, he wanted to play with glitter!" No. No, my initial reaction was more akin to a dropped jaw, and "Are you freaking serious?" Things of this nature have happened enough times now that I have a routine, and as long as I manage to keep my mouth shut, it's not scary. Camper Boy's sparkly little heiny was plopped in time out and my wheels of methodology in figuring out the least painful way to clean it up started turning. The blankets and sheets were all shaken onto the floor, and then when I was satisfied that they were generally free of craft herpes, I tossed them down the hall and onto my bed. The vacuum is stored in the bench right under that back window there, with the yellow, so I had to shake, fold and strip EVERYTHING down before I could suck any of that shiny awfulness up. Camper Boy remained in time out. Finally, with a camper covered in silver glitter, the bed was stripped, and I was free to get out the vacuum. And so began 30 solid minutes of sucking it up.....and it's still not all gone, because after all, this is glitter we're talking about. I took a picture of it, as you can see above, and sent it to my mother, and when she heard what it had been destined for, she asked if I was calm. I found it hilarious and began laughing, and that moment of levity is, folks, why Camper Boy will live to see another day, and in all likelhood, will live to give you all another chapter in the the Adventures of Camper Boy. For now, though, this one is over, because it's lunch time and I need to replenish the energy I purged cleaning up the unicorn after party.
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