Cap Ring

Caps are as much a part of my life these days as milk cups and diapers. They are often found all over my house. Littered down the hall, in the washing machine, stuck in the carpet...everywhere. And because cleaning up the full cap ring would be a convenience for dear ol' Mom, my boys tear the cap rings apart to use single caps in their rifles. I have said on more than one occasion, "If I step on one more cap, I'm throwing them all away. Every last one of them. And I mean it this time." Yet the pain of stepping on caps in the middle of the night is overshadowed by the hearing loss I am experiencing in my left ear. All because my middle boy thinks it's hilarious to sneak up on his unsuspecting Mother as she sits at her computer and unload a round over my left shoulder. He doubles over in laughter. I shoot him a dirty look as I massage my ringing eardrum. Yet, I continue to make weekly treks to Wal-greens to load up on caps. I'm a glutton for punishment. But I had to draw the line on my boys' careless use of their caps when I saw this...

My sweet baby sporting a cap ring on his thumb. I'm unsure if the ring was placed on his chubby, little thumb or if it found it's way there as he climbed through the arsenal of caps covering the playroom floor. Regardless, I ranted off a long speech to his older brothers about ingesting gun powder and explained to them what a choking hazard is. Their eyes glazed over in boredom but they offered me a reassuring "Yes, Mama!" when I ended my speech with a pop quiz and a "Do you understand me?" Within seconds, and appropriately dressed in their cowboy pajamas, they were bouncing around the house, one with the aftermath of Cheetos on his cheek, the other running in circles, amped up on a diet mountain dew that he snuck out of the fridge. And I did what I do best. I crawled around on my hands and knees, scouring the floor for those annoying caps, cussing Wal-greens and myself along the way.