We have a real problem around here. A problem with no solution, I’m afraid. My son simply can not abide pruny hands. He has coined his pruny hands, “scrumpy hands.” I have no idea where he got that, but let me tell you, it is the worst affliction known to man. When he emerges from the tub with scrumpy hands, there is heck to pay. He seems to think that scrumpy hands are some sort of disability and therefore, his hands are rendered useless for at least a half an hour. This makes things like getting dressed, eating breakfast, and holding a spoon extremely challenging. I end up having to dress him, with his fists clenched in a tight little ball. I then guide my disabled child to the kitchen table, and force a spoon into that scrumpified fist and tell him to eat up, all will be well eventually. He refuses to listen to his mother’s sage advice that if he would open up those little fists and air them out, the scrumpiness would dissipate so much sooner!
Unfortunately, he has decided that the best way to get rid of scrumpy hands is to rub them on the carpet, which makes his mother’s skin crawl and her knees buckle. It’s like nails on a chalkboard (which, come to think of it, doesn’t bother me at all. Huh.). I don’t know where I picked up this particular phobia, but I am imploring you to please not rub the carpet with your hands or feet around me! I just might throw up.
I guess because I like to read in the tub, my hands never get water logged. I actually don’t remember the last time I had scrumpy hands. Maybe at the pool? I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t think anyone gets scrumpy hands in the pool, just the tub. Why is that, I wonder? Maybe I need to add chlorine to his bath water.
We’re hoping he outgrows his loathing of scrumpy hands soon and just embraces them. We can only play into this pretend affliction for so long.