Red right hand

The funny little foibles that all young children have really intrigue me. And Dylan has developed a new one which, although I’m sure is not at all unusual in kids his age, I find hilarious. While a lot of toddlers have a teddy, blanket or something basically soft that they use as a comforter, our little man has become inseparable from his plastic stacking cups!

He won’t let go of them and they go wherever he does. Be it bed, the bath or even when he’s eating. He usually holds them in such a way that makes one hand more than a tad reminiscent of Hellboy’s meaty right fist.

Thankfully, that’s pretty much where the similarities to the superhero end. We know for a fact that he wasn’t made by occult-dabbling Nazis and we don’t live in a multi-cat household. Phew.

I digress. This, of course, can be more than a little inconvenient. The other day, for example, he was a little sad about something – maybe someone told him that Rasputin could have him in a fight. Kate picked him up to give him a cuddle, only to get socked in the chops by Dylan’s plastic red Right Hand of Doom as he tried to fling his arms around her neck.

Putting him down for his nap can be a tricky manoeuvre too. If we accidentally knock the cups out of his hands or try to prise them from his grip once he’s asleep, we get to witness first-hand the only other thing he does have in common with Hellboy. His temper!

We do, however, always have every parent’s favourite secret weapon of distraction up our sleeves and, on occasion, Dylan can be persuaded to put them down for a short while. This strategy isn’t foolproof though – he goes and gets something else that he won’t be parted from.

Other objects he has been known to wander around with of late include the plastic casing from one of my empty inhalers, a nappy – a clean one, thankfully – and his toothpaste.

I write this as Dylan is upstairs having a nap. With one of his empty bottles, naturally. He’s probably dreaming of defeating a former member of Bros and one day having a pyrokinetic girlfriend…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.