Dear makers of Bunchems.... I would like to punch you in the throat....

One of my many nicknames is Chocolate Mary Poppins. It was given to me YEARS ago by a tiny blonde haired, blue eyed tot named Gretchen.  I watched her for the very first time and as I was on my way home, my phone rang.  It was Gretchen's mom.  I picked up the phone and she was laughing so hard I initially thought she was crying. I thought..."They were alive when I left!  I thought they had a great time! I swear I didn't break them!!"  It turns out the conversation after I left went like this..

In the bathtub...
G: Mama, do we have any chocolate?
M: I think so, why? 
G: I just want to know how many chocowate baws I have to eat before I can get bwown like Ms. Mewissa...
M: Honey... I don't think there is enough chocolate in the world for that...

Thus... Chocolate Mary Poppins was Born...

In over 30 years watching literally hundreds of children, I have never encountered a toy of evil like I did tonight. I had 2 8 year old girls and one almost 2 year old boy in my care. One of the 8 year old's being my niece.  This was the FIRST time the girls met each other, and of course ran off to do the types of destruction only 8 year old girls do.  As I'm changing the diaper of the toddler, trying to wrangle him into his pajamas without him ninja kicking me in the face... I hear... 

WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!!

I look up from my strategic position on the floor, as that is the best place to wrangle slippery toddler boys because you have gravity on your side and I see.... 2 heads. One with a set of Afro Puffs, the other with long brown hair... staring at me... with identical expressions of dread.  I reach up and touch a mass of brightly colored plastic balls with the razor sharp teeth of a barracuda....stuck... in each girl's hair.  

Oh *&^%^&&*.

I quickly hog tie the toddler and put him in bed, and with fear congealing in my stomach... go to survey the damage.  I literally can't believe my eyes.  WHO MADE THESE PLASTIC SATANIC BALLS??? WHY????



And then the arduous process of trying to remove balls with more teeth than a school of barracuda begins.... 

The Afro puffs went first.  Each wince of the child as the tiny balls was pulled out was a balm to my soul.  HOW DID YOU GET THESE IN YOUR HAIR???!!! Well... I put them in there... was the answer I was given. At that moment, I had to pray to every god who has ever been written about for patience.  Deep. Breaths. In. Out.  Then the question was... How did SHE get them in her hair?  Well..... I threw them up in the air and they landed on her hair like a crown and she tried to pull them out and they got stuck. At this point, if my hands hadn't been full of puffy black hair I would have facepalmed myself so hard I could have seen the Spanish Inquisition. Live. 

One head done... except for a lone ball I didn't have the will to remove at that moment.  Now... onto head two....

I HOPE YOU DON'T HAVE TO CUT MY HAIR!! IS THIS THE WORST THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED WHEN YOU BABYSAT?? HAS ANYONE DONE ANYTHING WORSE THAN THIS?? 

I calmly said... "Well... I'm sure that I could think of something worse..." Which was basically a lie.  But I couldn't tell the child that.  First we tried pulling them out individually.  THAT was a bad idea.  Then, we tried getting the hair wet.  Now it was a congealed wet mess of tangled plastic and those tiny balls were looking at me, laughing like small demonic harbingers of doom.  Then we tried conditioner.... which made me think we were on the right track.... and FINALLY... with the aid of leave in spray conditioner and a long wooden skewer.... EUREKA!!!!!

I put a Netflix movie on for the tiny human and set to work. Painstakingly running the skewer through each ball of catastrophe, separating the hair and hoping scissors wouldn't have to be used.  45 minutes later... I was left with a pile of destructive plastic that I swore I would burn if I didn't think the fumes would poison me as a last ditch effort to cause my death. 

It turns out... I am not the only one who has had this brush with the most lethal toy known to hair on this planet. 



So parents, friends, even my enemies... I wouldn't wish this on any of you.  Do not buy them.  If your child goes to a friend's house on a play date? Ask them if they own any. And if they do? Don't let your child through the door.  I'm telling you this for your own good. And the good of your child.  I think these little balls were created to drag children, and their hair, straight into a never-ending pit of ruination. 

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