“It’s a story that always ends up with you saying to yourself, ‘I probably should not have said that,’” begins medical illustrator Elisa. Ohhh yeaaahhh. The mother of two from Florida shares one of those instances where time is suspended, and disaster unfolds in excruciatingly slow motion. September’s tale is of Rumpus King Finn and the sticky situation he left mom in.
We were coming home from vacation. It was late at night and we were on board the plane with our kids, Max and Finn. We were all tired, restless, cramped, and you know how it is when you’re waiting to exit from a plane. You inadvertently hold your breath, hoping that you do not end up in the waft of unpleasant odors from passersby. Come on, you do, I know you do. Wait… I digress. As we were half-standing, half-sitting in our seats, Finn, our then 5-year-old, was happily chewing his ginormous wad of pink Bubblcious Bubble Gum (to help with popping his ears). I remember grinning at him and saying, “Whatever you do, just don’t put gum in my hair.”
Argh, why would I say such a thing? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Lo and behold, what does that imp do? Of course, he does. As I glance away, he gently places that big wad of Pepto-Bismol pink colored gum in my long hair. Two pairs of wide eyed beings, mouths formed in shocked “O’s” stare back at me. My husband’s eyes are the widest of them all. I think that all I may have said was, “We need peanut butter, quick.”
That night, the peanut butter gods were against our plight. I mean, my plight. I was running around with one hand holding my gum laced hair (it’s a difficult thing to do when trying to keep other strands of my hair from entangling with more gum) and the other, frantically searching for something that either was peanut butter or had peanut butter in it (please, someone throw me a bone here). How could you not have peanut butter anywhere?
In the end, all we could find was Nutella. It would do. So, here I am, in the middle of La Guardia, in the bathroom with all the very polite and helpful (insert sarcasm) people streaming around me, spreading Nutella in my hair! Did they think I was crazy? Sure… wouldn’t you? Note to self, Nutella is great on bread, but not so much in hair. It was messy, gross and it looked like I was smearing poo in my hair. No one got close enough to partake in the wonderful chocolately goodness it has to offer. Pieces of dark brown guck slowly slide off my hair into the sink as I valiantly try to wash it off without soap. (Why would any restroom have soap in it?) Mind you, as I am doing this, people are openly staring at me with a frown while they wash their hands.
I did not care. All I knew was that I did not have to chop off large portions of my hair in order to remove the gum. I thank you, Nutella. In the end, you saved me. Two years later, I still keep a handy pack of peanut butter in my bag. Just in case. Oh yeah, and Finn? He was banned from gum for an entire year.
P/S. Peanut butter REALLY does remove gum from hair.
Got a beastly tale to tell? Once a month Konga Line shall crown a wonderfully beastly boy Rumpus King or a gloriously beastly girl Rumpus Queen. Send in stories of your little goblins for a chance at the crown. If your mini-monster is named Rumpus Royalty, I’ll post your terrible tale and send you a fabulous FREE KONGA TEE of your choice.