Pintster: (pīnt-ster) vb. present tense, to abscond with various household objects, making them unusable to the family as a whole. Favorite targets include foodstuffs, tools, and fiber-related implements. These items rarely reappear, having gone through an invisible vortex located under the bed of one Pint-Sized Farmer also known as Anthony.
See also, pintstered, pinstering.
Jessica bought me a makeup tool a few days ago. One side had an eyebrow brush, the other a small comb. Because the entrance to our bathroom is blocked by a baby/rabbit gate making it awkward for a mini-boot wearing uncoordinated female such as myself to navigate, I sat said tool on the filing cabinet that abuts its entrance. Later, when I actually vaulted into the bathroom, I went to grab my new beautifier but only the plastic envelope remained, no brush, no comb. Turning, I asked HH where it was and he said, “It’s been pintstered.” I laughed. The makeup utensil is still missing, however. Yes, my eyebrows have become unruly in protest.
This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Other items that have been pintstered include knitting needles and doughnuts (here to pinster means to take a few bites of several different doughnuts and then leave them on the counter to dry out; human children will not touch them once they’ve been pintstered). Also missing are Legos, puzzle pieces, and flashlights.
As Gramma to the absconder, I try to take pintstering in stride. It is a small price to pay for the company of one so young and grand. If possible, I would like my knitting needle back though. Anthony? Anthony? Dear? (By the way, calling him dear, honey, or alligator as in “See you later, Alligator,” invokes an indignant response of “I’m Anthony!” like we could somehow forget his name.)
Oh, motherhood, ne’er a dull moment, just the way I like it.
Happy Mother’s Day to Mimi, Aunt Bonnie, Carolyn, Nellie, and all the moms and grandmas of the world. Enjoy your special day.