The Stuck Story

“I stuck! I stuck!”

I heard her voice ring out as I was in the middle of folding laundry. Have I ever mentioned that I hate folding laundry? It’s so boring. Fold, fold, fold. To be honest, I’m an awful folder. I basically just shove things in drawers and to this day I don’t understand why people bother to fold their underwear.

I was jamming some of my underwear in the drawer when I heard Natalie’s call.

“I stuck! I stuck!”

Oh no.

I abandoned the clothes and rushed out into the hall. I expected to find Natalie in the toilet, to be honest. She once fell in and was sort of slumped in the middle, limbs sticking out every which way. Maybe that’s why she refuses to use the bathroom. She’s been traumatized, poor thing.

But Natalie wasn’t in the toilet. My heart started to race and I thought back to the laundry room. Did I remember to close the dryer door? Hadn’t a child died from being trapped in a dryer? Of course, in that case, I imagine the dryer had been turned on. And also, it was one of those fancy washer and dryer sets that I lust over whenever I stop into Sears. I’ll drag my hand over the shiny washer and practically drool all over it.

“Hello beautiful,” I’ll say. I’ll run my fingertips over all of the display buttons and pretend that I know exactly what Mixed Load Bell means. Seriously. There is a button that says that. I have a dirty mind so you can probably imagine what I was thinking. But still, inappropriate thoughts and all, I was in love with the fancy washer and dryer set and only left when the sales guy raised an eyebrow at me. I guess he’s not used to customer’s resting their cheek on top of his products.

“I stuck! I stuck!” Natalie called out again.

Whoops! I had been lost in fancy washer and dryer daydream again.

I forced myself to focus and I started to head down the stairs into the laundry room. But then something caught my eye.



She looks confused because I held up one finger and went, “Stay there,” and rushed downstairs to get my camera.

She was probably all, “Woman! Of course I’m going to stay here as I can’t MOVE. Hence, it’s why I’ve been shouting that I’m stuck.”

When I came back with my camera she kept tossing me an, “Are you serious?” look that reminded me so much of her father. He’s forever giving me “are you serious?” looks.

You’d think she’d easily be able to slide out of there, right?

But no. I’d attempt to pull her out and she’d wrap her feet around the structure. I didn’t want to yank her too hard because the thing started to wobble.

I decided I needed to have a talk with Natalie since we weren’t getting anywhere.

“Natalie. Just go limp. You just did it the other day in Target when you were insulted that I didn’t buy you that doll? Remember, Sweetie? Remember how you collapsed in the middle of the aisle and how I had to practically drag you out of the store because you REFUSED to stand?”

Natalie just tossed me a blank look as though she had no idea what I was talking about.

So I tried again.

“Natalie. Remember how we were at Kohls and you decided that you were sick of looking at clothes? You suddenly dropped to your stomach and pretended that you no longer understood English when I was hissing at you to get up? Do you recall how I tried to get you to stand up but you turned into a wet noodle and continued to sink to the floor? Remember, darling? You must remember because that group of old ladies passed us and snickered that I must have my hands full with you and you peeked up and I swear, you WINKED at them?”

Natalie smirked but then quickly wiped it off her face when she saw my expression.

“Okay. Let’s try something else,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to pull your feet.”

I gripped onto her ankles and tugged but the little minx gripped onto the table with her hands.

“You have to let go!” I said sternly.

Then I gave a loud sigh.

“Look. Just go limp and I’ll give you some chocolate. Deal?”

Natalie’s face let up. When I pulled on her she instantly went limp so she was able to easily slide out. I set her on the floor and explained that we don’t climb on furniture like that.

But she wasn’t listening.

She was already heading downstairs.

“Cah-co-dat!” she shrieked.

“You’re welcome!” I called out to her retreating back.

I suppose I can’t blame her though. I’ve been known to hold out for chocolate, too.