Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what you’re thankful for.  It’s long been a tradition in our family to go around the table, each person saying the thing they’re most thankful for the past year.   We only pick one thing to share, and at my Mother’s house everyone tends to say the same thing and not elaborate.  I’m thankful for a lot of things in my life, some may be clichéd, but all are true.  This year, in particular, I’m thankful for:

My husband.  This year we celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary, and we’re more in love now than we ever have been.  We’ve been there for each other even longer, about 26 years, and I honestly couldn’t imagine life without him.  He’s always been supportive, seen me through the worst time in my life, and I believe we are soul mates.  He’s someone I’ve told anything and everything to, from my wildest dreams to my darkest fears and secrets, and he’s never wavered.  Our disagreements are few and far between, and he’s the best lover, father, and friend I could ever have.

My children.  There are times, many of them, when my two children have me pulling my hair out and causing me unbelievable stress.  But I am thankful that I have both of them, and that they’re healthy, happy, and engaged in activities that they enjoy.  They have so much energy and so much love that each day rings something new and wonderful.

My work.  I’m thankful that I have work while several of my friends do not.  Sometimes managing two jobs gets crazy and overwhelming, but I have great coworkers, friends really, who make each job more fun despite the challenges each presents.  I’m thankful that I can look forward to going to work each day and not be miserable with what I do, and also that I have the means to provide my children with all the opportunities that I can.
My friends.  I have just a few close friends, but they are ones I can share everything with, and they always have the time and an ear to listen.  My life would be a lot emptier without them.

My sex life.  That may seem a strange thing to be thankful for, but I’m truly thankful that my husband and I are so in tune.  He’s been willing to try new things, and so have I, and that has enriched both the sex we have and the love we share.   Although we weren’t always so open with each other, this past year has been wonderful for exploration, and we even discovered a few things that we probably subconsciously knew but had never vocalized.

While we should count our blessings every day, this time of year is especially good to think about all that we’re thankful for, whether it’s something big or something small.  I hope you have a good list too, and that you have a wonderful and special Thanksgiving this year!

With two small children, I read a lot of books. Some of them multiple times. Particular favorites in our house include all of Dr. Seuss. He’s great fun to read, but by now I think I have all of his stories and tongue-twisters memorized. I find myself doing rhymes during the day when I’m talking to my family or friends. It’s scary how they come to me without even thinking. And sometimes I dream in Seuss. It can even pop into my head when I’m having sex.

With Dr. Seuss’s birthday coming up (it’s today!), I wonder what it would be like if Dr. Seuss wrote about sex. There’s such a variety of stories that he could write! With his silly rhymes and wonderful drawings, imagine the places he’d go!

In Dr. Seuss’s Alphabet book you might find the following:

Big A. Little a. What begins with a?
Alice’s ample ass. A, a, a.

Big B. Little b. What begins with b?
Bertha’s bouncing boobies…b,b,b.
…
Big V. Little v. What begins with v?
Vera’s Vintage Vibrators…v, v, v.
…
and so on. This could be an amusing book. Imagine the illustrations!

One Fish, Two Fish was always popular. But it could have gone something like

One cock, Two cock
Red cock, Blue cock

Black cock, White Cock
Old Cock, New Cock

This one has a little scar
This one’s pointing near and far
Say! What a lot of cocks there are!

Some are black and some are white
Some are heavy, some are light.

This cock’s thin, and this cock’s fat.
The fat one has a yellow hat.

Why is no cock like another?
I do not know, go ask your mother.

A book my children loved when they were little was Hop on Pop, This was a great book to help them learn to read by changing the first letter of rhyming words. I imagine some of it might go:

Hop
Pop

I like to hop.
I like to hop on top of Pop.

Cum
Bum
Cum on her bum.

Cum
Gum
Cum is worse than gum.

Head
Head
He likes to get head.

Head
Bed
He gets head in bed.

Head
Red
Now his head’s all red!

The simple books work well for sex. Instead of Left Foot, Right Foot, we might find:

Left boob, left boob, left boob, right
Boobs in the morning,
Boobs at night.

Left boob, left boob, right boob right
Wet boobs
Dry Boobs
High boobs
Low boobs

Be they large or be they wee,
How many, many boobs you see.

Even the books Dr. Seuss wrote for older kids can be perverted. One of my favorite books is Fox in Socks, which has some incredible tongue twisters. Imagine the fun that could be had:

Willy Wally works wood.
Wanda Wooly works wood.

Wanda works whose wood?
Wanda works Willy’s wood.

Willy works whose wood?
Willy wanks Willy’s wood.

Wanda wanks Willy’s wood.
Willy works Wanda’s wooly.

Another of my favorites is Green Eggs and Ham. The title wouldn’t quite apply, but imagine the rhymes here!

“Just swallow once. I know indeed
You’ll love it when you drink my seed.

Try it! Try it! It’s not pee.
Semen’s so good, so good you see.”

“Your aim’s so bad I will not try.
You’ll likely shoot it in my eye!

I will not swallow on a boat.
I will not swallow with a goat.

I will not swallow on a plane.
Not in the dark. Not on a train.

Not in the sea, not in the air.
Your balls can turn blue, but I really don’t care.

I will not swallow on the bed.
I will not when I give you head.

I will not swallow here or there.
I will not swallow anywhere!
And no, it’s not good for my hair!

I do not like to swallow cum.
I do not like to, it’s so dumb.”

Another popular story at our house is The Sneeches. Dr. Seuss could have had some fun with this one! Imagine:

Now the Natural Snatches
Had snatches with hairs.
The Smooth-shaven Snatches had none upon theirs.

The hair was so fine, and really so small,
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

But since they were bare, all the Smooth-shaven Snatches
Would brag “We’re the best looking with all the best matches.”

With noses in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort
“Fluffing! That’s a job for you Natural sort!

When the Smooth-shaven Snatches had one-on-one sex,
Or Orgies or gangbangs or collars on their necks,
The Natural Snatches were never allowed
To join in the fun with the Smooth-shaven crowd.

Lastly, here’s a little perving of the classic The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. While the live action version certainly perverted this story, I imagine Dr. Seuss could have done so even better:

Every one in Porn Valley liked fucking a lot.
But the Grinch, who lived out of the valley, did not!

The Grinch hated fucking! The sucking and tease.
He hated the anal and mass expertise.

It could be he never had played with his cock
Or toyed with his prostate or came in a sock.

I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his dick was two sizes too small.

But whatever the reason, his lack or his size,
He stood on the hill wishing for their demise.

For he knew everyone in the valley below
Was getting a clit licking now, or a blow.

“And they’re cumming on camera!” he snarled with a sneer.
“They’re fucking and sucking and banging out here.”

Then he growled with his fingers just stroking his balls,
“I must find a way to put an end to it all!

When the actors were sleeping he made his way down,
Like a coward in the night he snuck into the town.

He made his way carefully into each house,
He went on his tiptoes as quiet as a mouse.

And he stole all the dildos! Vibrators and things!
He took batteries! Lube! And he stole the cock rings!

He took all the fleshlights! He took the butt plug!
The condoms, the movies, all that he could lug!

Then he went back to his place, nastily humming,
“They’re finding out now that no one will be coming!

They’ll all cry and sob, all their toys are now gone.
Now they won’t get off anytime soon. And I will have won!”

With one hand on his cock and one hand to his ear,
The Grinch waited to hear sobs of misfortune and fear.

And he did hear a sound, but instead of bemoaning,
Twas the sound of so many down there intently coming!

He hadn’t stopped orgasms, the people they CAME!
Without any toys they came just the same!

And he puzzled about it until he was blue,
And he realized something that to him was new.

“They don’t need the extras, they don’t need the toys!
They just like having sex and creating the noise!”
And what happened then? In the valley they say
That the Grinch’s small cock grew three sizes that day!

He raced to the valley, he joined in the fun.
And he fucked and he sucked and he licked everyone.

Now all in Porn Valley liked fucking a lot.
And the Grinch, why the Grinch, he gave more than he got!

A shoegasm, originally used on Sex and the City, is defined by the online Urban Dictionary as “Sexual pleasure you get from buying, wearing, or just looking at a kick ass pair of shoes.” Like a regular orgasm, a shoegasm can be brief and intense, or build up to a heightened state of pleasure. It can wash over you with waves of pleasure and excitement, almost better than the real thing, leaving you exhausted and satisfied and ready for more.

I had my first shoegasm recently on a shopping trip out of town. Now, I own my fair share of shoes. I probably own several people’s fair share to be honest. I’m always buying new pairs in every color and style imaginable. I have flip flops, sandals, dress shoes, boots, tennis shoes and stripper heels – you name it, I have it. Except for a pair of saddle shoes: I recently sold them on eBay.

My shoes give me a lot of satisfaction, and also a bit of consternation in the morning. Surrounded by shoes, it can be hard to decide what to wear. Sometimes I pick the shoe and then pick the outfit; other times I have the outfit and try and select just one that matches the best.

I’ve never been in an exciting shoe store, though, until we were at a new shopping area, and I saw a store that I had browsed online that sold shoes. I convinced my husband that we had to stop there after we finished in the electronics store, and when we did, I almost swooned when we walked in the door.

I’d never seen so many pairs of shoes in my life! An entire floor. Hundreds, maybe a 1000 pairs. And all for women! That shoegasm was definitely starting. Row after row of shoes. Cute shoes. Hot shoes. Good brand shoes, all of them, and at decent prices. My husband camped in front of the TV with the other men while I browsed, filling my arms with boxes of shoes to try on.

And then I found the sale room.

I wear size 10, and typically when I enter clearance sections I’m lucky to browse 4 or 5 pairs. But here, there were literally 100 pairs! Prices up to 80% off! I could have come right then and there. Of course, I had to try on almost every pair, from sandals to heels, and even a pair of knee high black stiletto boots! My husband came back a few times, shook his head at me surrounded by open boxes, and went back to the TV.

Eventually I had my selection down to 20 pairs. This seemed excessive to me, so after about 20 minutes I managed to wheedle the pile of boxes down to 9 pairs that I just couldn’t live without. When my husband came back again to see how I was doing, he just said, “Really? Nine pairs”

“Really,” I told him with a rather glazed look on my face. “I’m showing incredible restraint here,” I said. He was able to exercise more restraint when we went back to the electronics store, and more restraints when we played for the evening.

If you’ve never had a shoegasm, you don’t know what you’re missing. And once you have one, you’ll want to have one again and again.

Part 2 : The Best Laid Plans
The next morning, my husband went to work early. I was up, lounging around in a robe and playing on the computer. At one point, I felt something like a “pop.” It didn’t hurt, and I didn’t pay much attention to it.

Until I stood up. Apparently the popping I’d heard was my water breaking, and it came out in an absolute flood. I stood there staring at it for a few minutes, thinking I was glad I hadn’t been at the grocery store!

I called my husband at work, and he was in an absolute panic. “Did you call the hospital?” he asked. I hadn’t. The birthing classes we’d gone to said you didn’t have to until labor pains started, and I hadn’t had any yet. So, I hopped in the shower, and when he came home he was running around like a madman. Thankfully I had already packed a suitcase. He called the hospital, and they wanted us to come since my water had broke. It was a 5 minute drive, but my husband still insisted on speeding.

The first hour was pretty uneventful. I felt great, and we were both so excited. Then the labor pains started. I have never had such pain in my life. Nothing in the classes really prepared me for it at all. I tried to breathe, but I was wracked with spasms.

The nurses wanted to hook up a monitor to check on the baby’s vitals, and once they had that inserted they hooked it up to a machine. It also showed when I was having a contraction (they were about 10 minutes apart at this time).

My husband was watching the monitor at one point, and as I was moaning in pain, he astutely said, “Oh, the monitor shows you’re having a contraction.”

“No shit!” I screamed. I wanted to strangle him!

As the day progressed the pain became worse, and I wasn’t dilating all. I don’t think I’ve ever had so many different hands in my vagina in all my life as every 30 minutes a nurse would come into check. It definitely made me lose my shyness. The nurses suggested an epidural, and despite the fact that I wanted to do it naturally, I gave in and let them give me the spinal shot.

That worked wonders. I couldn’t feel anything from my waist down, and now I sat with my husband and watched the contractions on the monitor.

As evening came, I still wasn’t dilating, and the hospital called my doctor. He determined that the cord was holding the baby inside, and there was no way I was going to deliver vaginally. At that point (and, unfortunately not earlier in my pregnancy) he told me he couldn’t do the surgery, and he’d have to call in the surgeon on duty.

When the surgeon came in, he held out his hand and introduced himself with “Hi, I’m Dr. Sheen, and I’ll be cutting you open in a few minutes.” They wheeled me down to the surgery room and gave me a spinal shot, then laid me down on the table.

My husband sat by me and held my hand, and they had a divider right below my breasts so he couldn’t see the surgery. I was freezing cold, and the table was freaking me out. It looked just like the tables you see on TV when the convict is being executed by lethal injection and they have him strapped down to the table. The nurses wanted me to stretch my arms out to the side, but I couldn’t do it. I promised not to move my arms, and my husband held my hand as the C-section began.

I couldn’t feel a thing, except at one point there was a lot of pressure on my chest. Then I heard my son cry, and it was the most wonderful experience of my life. I got to see him, and then I lay there holding my husband’s hand while they sewed me back up. At one point early on the doctors bumped the screen, and my husband went a bit pale. He gripped my hand a little harder for a while, until 45 minutes later when I was back in one piece. He later told me he could see my organs piled on my chest while the doctors were putting everything back (hence the pressure I felt on my chest).

While I had really wanted to have a natural birth, in the end everything turned out well, and I have a beautiful, healthy son. My daughter was born the same way, and I have no regrets.

Part 1 : I’m Going To Do It Naturally!

When I got pregnant for the first time, my husband and I were thrilled and scared. We thought we could even pinpoint the night it happened. We had decided a few weeks before that it was time to start a family, and I had gone off the pill. The doctors told us it would probably take a few months before anything happened and my body would have to adjust to being off the hormones. I was worried, since my best friend had tried to get pregnant for a few years and finally ended up getting in vitro fertilization to have children. We weren’t getting any younger – we were already in our early 30s.

I picked up a cute pink satin bunny outfit. Cute little tail, satin gloves, pink heels, and fluffy long white ears. We (pardon the expression) fucked like rabbits that night, before my husband had to go back to graveyard shifts and our sex would become much more sporadic.

I was expecting my period just two weeks later, and I was a day late. I rushed out and bought a pregnancy test, ran home, and did the test. I almost passed out. Lo and behold, it said I was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it! I called the doctor and set up an appointment for the very next day. Surely the home test was wrong!

But, it wasn’t. The doctor confirmed I was pregnant. I have never been so excited and terrified in my life. That night I dressed up and told my husband. I had wanted to do something clever. Once on a television show, the wife told her husband by serving him a meal of baby peas, baby carrots, and baby back ribs. But in the end, as we lay there after sex, I asked him what he thought about March 4th. It took him a minute, and then he hugged me tight. We were going to have a baby!

The time went by quickly. I was pregnant in the winter, which was wonderful. I was so hot all the time, I felt like a miniature furnace. In snow and 20 degree weather, shorts and a t-shirt felt just fine. My poor husband was being frozen out of the house – I think I kept the heat down to 60 so I’d sweat less. Maternity shorts and jeans were, I discovered, the best thing ever. My stomach was so big, it was unreal. And the baby kicked a lot. We would lie together in bed and just feel the kicks at night. It’s so hard to describe the feeling of having a life growing inside you.

I had strange cravings as well. My husband swore that I’d be eating pickles. But what I craved more than anything were red pears and Lay’s potato chips. I could eat them all day long!

I was lucky that I didn’t have morning sickness too much. I’d have a day or two of being nauseous, and then a week where I’d be fine.

We continued to have great sex. My husband was a bit gentler than usual, and we found that doggie style was the most comfortable. This was especially true as the time got closer and my stomach grew bigger and bigger.

As I got closer, although still a few months away, we discussed how I would deliver. I wanted more than anything to have a natural childbirth. No drugs, no surgery, everything natural. So we signed up for La Maz classes. Every week for 2-3 hours, we met with a nurse at the hospital with about 10 other couples and learned about breathing techniques, exercises (including perineal massage), and what the birthing process would be like.

It scared me a bit. What really got to me one night was when we watched a birthing video. The woman on the video actually gave birth! Afterwards, I ran to the bathroom.
I don’t know what I had been expecting, but it wasn’t at all like I’d imagined. The other women in my class were in the bathroom as well, and we were all freaked out. I was wondering what my husband thought!

The funny thing was, the guys all thought it was incredible and cool. That honestly amazed me, but it was great to know that my husband wasn’t as freaked out by it as I was.

The time was getting closer and closer. I was so big I was having trouble wearing anything! My husband was sure I was going to have a boy by the way I was carrying so high. I really wanted a boy, but more than anything I wanted a healthy baby.

I was also starting to wonder how accurate the date was that the doctor gave us. March 4th sounded good, but what if the baby came early? This was 2000, and there was a good possibility that I’d give birth a few days early. Would February 29th be a good day? It would be unique, but I wasn’t so sure.

On Friday, February 25, when I left work, one of my colleagues said, “See you on Monday!” “With any luck, no,” I said. I was tired, and really ready to have this baby.

A friend took me to dinner at McDonald’s for a Filet-o-Fish, and I couldn’t fit into the booth to eat. Yes, I was really ready….

I love Valentine’s Day. I have from the time I was a kid. Back then, the day meant spending hours making cards at home the week before because we couldn’t afford to buy any. Then bringing them to school, making mailboxes out of paper plates, and putting your Valentine’s cards in each one. Or most of them. Back then you didn’t have to give one to everybody. I always hoped to get a special card from the cute boy that I had a crush on, and dreaded getting that special card from the school creep.

When junior high and high school came around, it was the rare year that I was dating anybody, and if I was, I was lucky to get anything but a card. And maybe a grope or two at the movies in the balcony, but never anything very exciting. No flowers, no dinners, and never any sex.

Then I met my husband in my senior year of high school. We had been dating for about 6 months (and engaged for about 4) before Valentine’s Day rolled around. We had a rather traditional date: I got 2 dozen long stem red roses. We went out for a nice dinner and then to a movie. Not a romantic movie, though. He would have had to drag me kicking and screaming to one of those (and still would). We went and saw F/X, which was great, from what I saw of it. That balcony at the theater saw a lot of action that night, and we were probably lucky we didn’t get thrown out! There’s definitely something to be said for wearing a skirt on a date.

Then we went back to his place for some crazy Valentine’s sex. He bought me a sexy red bra and panties, the first of many Valentine’s lingerie I would receive. In fact, since that time, although he doesn’t buy me as much lingerie as he used to, he loves to see me dressed up in something sexy,

Over the years, we’ve celebrated a lot of ways. The roses are pretty much a staple, although he often has them delivered to my work so I can enjoy them the whole week long. They’re always red, and always beautiful.

The wild sex is a staple, too. We’ve had romping sex all over the house. We’ve had sex in cars and sex at the movies. We’ve done bondage play, from the light (tying me up with red silk sashes) to the heavy (red collar and cuffs and tied to the furniture while he spanks me with a heart paddle). I’ve been fucked with everything from red dildos to champagne bottles. And it just keeps getting better.

Some years we’ve had romantic dinners at home, where I actually cook. We have sexy desserts like strawberries and whipped cream, which lead to relaxing massages, bubble baths together, and other activities. Other years we go out for a nice dinner while we hire a sitter for the night. Those years we typically go to a movie, like Friday the 13th or My Bloody Valentine (it’s the romantic in me). Unfortunately, none of the theaters where we now live have a balcony, but the back row works just as well.

We’re still romantic often, but there’s just something special about Valentine’s Day. And now I have to go make my husband a card.

‘Taint So!

The word Taint has been around for a long time – since the 1500s. According to the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, taint originated from the Middle English “teynten”, meaning “to color.” It started out as a verb meaning “to contaminate morally” or “to touch or affect slightly with something bad.” So if you were a jealous person, you would be tainted by envy. Unlucky with your family being plagued by illness, you would be tainted by grief. Crops could be tainted by mold or blight.

In the 1600s, taint also became used as a noun to mean “a contaminating mark or influence.” If you had “the taint”, you were impure and immoral. Women who lost their virginity before marriage were considered tainted by sin and shunned or ridiculed. Women who had sex outside of marriage were tainted by adultery and forced to wear a scarlet “A”. Witches were often considered tainted by the Devil or evil, unclean spirits. At least until they were hung or drowned. Then they were tainted no more.

Food can be tainted when it is spoiled. If you leave potato salad out on the counter, it can become tainted with bacteria and make you ill. Decomposing matter can be tainted with germs. Wine can be tainted by bad smells or tastes which can’t be detected until the wine is bottled, aged, and opened. At that point, it’s usually undrinkable.

More recently, taint has become the slang term used to mean the area, either on a man or a woman, that lies between the anus and the balls or the vagina. I had never heard of this area referred to that way until my husband used the word. I wasn’t sure what he was referring to exactly when he said something about licking the taint.

“The what?” I asked.

“You know, the taint.”

“No, I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.

“Well,” he said, ’T ain’t pussy, and ‘t ain’t ass…”

Oh, now I got it.

In a man’s case, of course, this would be “T ain’t the balls and ‘t ain’t the ass…”. Either way, it’s a strange term.

Why use a word with such a definition? I mean, it’s a great area. It’s super sensitive, both on women and men, and it’s great to gently stroke with a finger. It’s also feels wonderful when licked and caressed with a tongue. It’s possible to bring a man to climax by stroking this area while stimulating his penis or balls, and it can drive a woman wild. It’s that nether region where you can go when your partner doesn’t want anything near their anus. It can be teased and tickled, but never pinched. It can even be hit lightly with a hand or a small whip for a little extra bite.

I realize that it’s a “cute” contraction, but surely that area could have a better name. Maybe it should be called the ‘Tis. Because ‘tis great to stroke. ‘Tis between the balls or vagina and anus. ‘Tis nice to stimulate. ‘Tis nice to lick and savor. And ‘tis nice to have.

Let’s be more positive. No more taint, folks!

(And tomorrow, we’ll have taint from the male perspective!)

Being a sex toy junkie has its disadvantages. For one thing, I’ve been running out of storage space. I’ve got 3 locking cabinets for keeping my toys and movies away from prying eyes, and they are overflowing. I’ve moved my DVDs onto spindles to free up space. I’ve even got toys (waterproof, of course) and lubes stashed in the bathrooms. But I need more space. For another thing, I’m being overrun by batteries.

I should buy stock in Duracell or EverReady. Even Rayovac or Sunbeam. Hell, I should start my own battery manufacturing company and take free batteries as my share of the profits. I buy so many batteries I think I’m keeping these companies in business all by myself. I have drawers overflowing with double-A, triple-A, C, and D. There’s watch batteries, 9-volt, and N2 batteries as well. I don’t buy batteries in 4 packs any more: multipacks of 16 will get me by. For a while. Every time I go to the store I throw a pack of batteries in my cart.

Now, before you ask what toys use 9-volt and D batteries (and if you know of some, please share where I can find them!), I do actually buy batteries for other things. There are smoke detectors, carbon monoxide detectors, and cordless screwdrivers that need power. So do my Elliptical and my recumbent bike.

Sometimes I feel like I’m being taken over by the Tommyknockers. If you don’t know, The Tommyknockers was a novel written by Stephen King back in 1987. It was about some people in the town of Haven, Maine who found part of a spaceship sticking out of the ground and started to dig it up. The strange gas the spaceship released began to affect everyone with a kind of odd genius. They began to make devices that did some pretty horrific things, sometimes killing themselves in the process. One guy even managed to create a device for his magic show that transported his young helper into another dimension.

And the really funky inventions all ran on batteries. Pretty soon the town used every battery in sight to make their strange and deadly devices, so they began to harness the battery power that could be generated from animate objects. That’s brains. Dog brains and people brains, to be precise. The story didn’t have a very happy ending.

Sometimes I forget to stock up on a particular size, and then the toy I’m using goes dead. As I scramble, digging through drawers for 6 more AAs, I wonder how I forgot to add them to my shopping list. Or I wonder if I did buy some, and my husband just had to use them for the flashlights and cordless tools. Or my kids nabbed them for the remote control or Barbie house.

Using rechargeables doesn’t help. Most of these items don’t work well with rechargeable batteries. Most of my toys don’t seem to, either. Even if they work in the toy, guess what I forget to do? Yep. They don’t do me any good when they’re in the charger and haven’t been charged.

One of these days I’ll only have rechargeable toys. The ones I have are mostly a godsend. They can be left charging without worrying about overcharge. And then they’re ready to go any time, as long as they make it back to the charger. Except for a few of them, which can only be charged for 2 or 3 hours. These toys are a problem. I’m so afraid of overcharging I forget to plug them in at all. And then I’m right back where I started. Needing batteries.

I really need to buy a battery factory. Anybody got a battery factory for sale, cheap? Or want to donate your brain?