I had totally forgotten about this lil' fella. And while you're probably wondering how a grown woman ends up with a big glob of candy on her sock, let me take you back to the scene of the crime...
A week or so ago Kate and I headed into town to do a little shopping. To make the trip a little more enjoyable for the both of us, I purchased Kate a sucker, in the shape of a baby's bottle of all things. The nipple portion of the bottle was the sucker while inside the bottle was thepersonwhomadethiscandyobviouslydoesn'thavechildren flavored powder. I thought the sucker would hold her over and she wouldn't notice the strawberry powder inside.
Three licks later and she was begging for it. And since I was in mid-change in the dressing room, I opened it for her and she proceeded to enjoy it in all of its cavity-creating and hyperactivity inducing flavor.
Before long, she decided that the little stick made for dipping just wasn't cutting it and she tipped the bottle up into her mouth. The majority of the powder went in her mouth and she smiled. Then I heard, "Too much....too much, Mama." And she leans over to spit it into the Target dressing room floor. Now, I'm not gonna lie, had the powder been a lighter color, I may have let her continue with her efforts but since it was bright pink, I demanded she wait one second while I desperately searched for something for her to spit it into.
I couldn't find anything in the dressing room or my purse for her to use, until I noticed a lonely pair of socks hanging out in the bottom of my purse, which had been left in there from the week before when I went shopping for a new pair of sneaks. (I refuse to dig in store's complimentary sock bin while trying on shoes and usually have a spare pair in my purse for that purpose.)
So I grabbed a sock and let her spit her entire mouth contents onto it. I thought about just leaving the sock because 1) it's now sticky and gross and 2) it's probably going to be permanently stained, but it's one of my favorites so I rolled it up and stuck it back into my purse.
I'd pretty much forgotten about it until I ran across it last week. I figured the stain was there for good since I had so responsibly let it sit in my laundry basket for over week, but decided to try and salvage it.
Thank goodness for my laundry BFF, because the stain is gone and the sock is as good as new.
The moral of this story?
There isn't one.
Or if there is one, I'm too tired to think of what it is.
Sometimes I just think that ya'll need to know some of the crazy junk that goes on around here.