Mr. P was up early this morning and helpfully made breakfast for me and Daddy, except that he poured milk in the Cheerios and that wasn't so helpful because I had to spring out of bed to eat mine before they were totally soggy.
But then we had some extra time. Time in which he got dressed and, when I told him to at least find his shoes (his brand new, well-fitted shoes that were not cheap), told me his teacher doesn't want him to wear those shoes anymore.
You see, besides the charming red lights that twinkle from the soles with every step, the right one also has a button which, when pressed, causes the menacing sound of Darth Vader's breathing to come crackling out of the face mask molded onto the velcro closure. (The really hilarious thing, to me anyway, is that at his age I wandered the house wearing my plastic Darth Vader mask, sticking my tongue against the mouth opening to enhance the sound effect while I breathed heavily.)
He doesn't press the button on purpose! (I think he was assuring me of this before I even asked.) It just happens sometimes without him wanting it to! When he sits in criss-cross-applesauce (what happened to "cross-legged"? why two extra syllables?), the floor pushes the button... and then everyone looks at him and his teacher doesn't like it because it's distracting people and he doesn't like it because he doesn't like people looking at him!
A few minutes later, as I was still frowning at the offending shoe and trying to figure out how to disable it (because after some trying, it was clear that his idea of taping something over the speaker wasn't going to work, especially since he thought we'd do this every morning and take it off every afternoon), Mr. P was backpedalling furiously, so upset that I was going to make it never ever make that sound again! Please! It's OK! He likes that sound when he wants to make it! His teacher doesn't really mind! It's ok!
So my idea of snipping some threads to pry the thing open and snip some wires was put on hiatus.
Really, it dawned on me, all we needed was a little circular buffer that would preven the big flat floor from pushing the button, but still let a little pokey finger get at it. Simple! (If you want my opinion, the shoe designers should have used a recessed button in the first place. Or left out the sound, that would have been good, too.)
Luckily the only washers we have on hand were the perfect size and I have some heavy duty upholstery thread and a hefty curved needle, which meant I could go in and out in one stitch and keep the threads all sandwiched away from the thread-destroying velcro on the back of that little tab.
Initial test was successful and I hear there were no problems at school! Victory for washers and string!!! Somehow, cobbling together a solution to a little problem always feels like a big boost. :)
I'm just hoping it hangs on until the shoes don't fit anymore.