A Tale of Four Shirts

The shirts I speak of are the four that my kids ruined this week.  We can start with J, who is mimicking his big brother without even knowing it.  J put holes in the waist and wrist areas of two shirts.  He enjoys putting his fingers through the holes, so he just goes for it during listening time at school.  He got off the bus Wednesday and handed me the whole cuff of a long-sleeved t-shirt.  He'd ripped it clear off after putting some holes in the sleeve.  One of the shirts was Hubby's favorite to see the kids in, and the other was a Superman shirt with a detachable cape.  I'm letting the Superman shirt stay in rotation for now, three holes and all.  Because I'm the kind of mother that doesn't mind her kid looking like a ragamuffin.

Now, on to G.  Man, oh man.  I was in a meeting with some parents on Thursday when G's face appeared at my classroom door.  He started to open it, his teacher appeared behind him, she noticed there was a meeting, and they left.  I was a little anxious, as they haven't shown up at my door all year.  It didn't look like an emergency, and five minutes later, I hadn't been called to the clinic or office.  So I knew no one was hurt too badly.  Once the meeting ended, I found Mrs. P, his teacher.

Mrs. P explained the situation to me.  The scab picking is still an issue.  G had picked a scab on his arm and then used his shirt to blot the blood.  He blotted the blood no less than 37 times.  How do I know?  I counted the dots of blood all over his new orange Cub Scout shirt.  (Thanks to All Free and Clear detergent, it all came out!  I forgot to pretreat it.  Not surprising.)

The second shirt for G was Friday.  He chewed through the neckline of another shirt.

So one shirt went into the trash, two are just ratty but usable, and one still looks fine thanks to modern laundry science.  I have ordered chewy necklaces for the boys to use, primarily G.  I may try them with J, too.  Hopefully we can have something for hands and mouths to do that won't involve ruining more shirts.  And I'm going to keep saying yes to hand-me-downs.  Then I won't feel so bad when the shirt doesn't survive these boys for very long.