The perils of tape addiction

The other day, an old addiction came back to haunt our family. I
found Junior in his room with something we had banished long ago.
Something we had worked hard to get rid of.
A roll of tape.
That’s right, tape.
The other day, an old addiction came back to haunt our family. I found Junior in his room with something we had banished long ago. Something we had worked hard to get rid of.

A roll of tape.

That’s right, tape.

I thought I’d never see my son with tape again. I thought I’d hidden it well. I didn’t want him to be tempted. I didn’t want my little boy to slide down the slippery slope of addiction when he’d worked so hard to conquer his tape cravings. But I guess when wrapping a birthday gift, I left a roll out.

And Junior snatched it.

His addiction to tape started young. One day he was an innocent preschooler. The next, he had discovered the joys of taping his artwork to the walls. Within a week, every wall in the house was covered with artwork and Junior had moved on to taping other things.

Before long, Junior could whip through a roll in an afternoon, taping it to his clothes, his hair, his bedroom door, the dog. Once he taped his mouth shut, although honestly, if you knew how much Junior can talk, you’d understand why I waited a few minutes remove it.

I’m not a completely awful mother, though. When he tried to tape his nose shut, I took the tape away instantly and explained that breathing was a necessity, not an optional activity.

At his high point, Junior could go through three rolls an hour. He taped intricate designs on the walls. He had some really cool weaving patterns he did in the kitchen. But once he discovered packing tape, things got really bad.

It’s one thing to have regular tape adorning your walls. It’s easily removable. But packing tape isn’t.

It’s super sticky. It takes the paint off the walls. And that’s when I knew that my darling little boy was addicted to tape.

I saw his future clearly. I knew that if tape wasn’t banished from our home, my son faced a life of desperation. I could see him at 16, walking the streets, hopelessly trying to score a roll of double-stick.

I tried to get help. I tried to find a tape-rehab center, where professionals could help my son and ease him out of his need to tape everything in sight. I figured somehow, somewhere there was a place Junior could go where he could learn to hang pictures on his walls using thumbtacks. Or to use string to tie packages.

But incredibly, no such place exists.

So Harry and I went it alone. We made Junior go cold turkey on the tape. One day, when he was at school, I tossed all the tape in the house into the trash. I took everything off the walls, the doors, and Junior’s clothes. I even de-taped the dog. She had a few bald spots, but was otherwise unharmed.

And when Junior came home, he seemed fine with it. No shakes, no cravings for just one more piece of masking tape. And for the last two years, I’ve carefully hidden a few rolls in my closet, for taping presents.

But I guess we got too complacent. Too used to the idea that our boy was over his tape addiction. And that was why I was so surprised yesterday. I found him in his room, with a roll of regular tape. I suppose I should have been grateful. After all, with Junior’s history, it could have been something stronger, like duct tape.

But there he was, happily taping a school project together. He seemed to be fine. He used a few pieces, and then gave the roll back to me. I think he’s going to be okay.

But just in case, I’m putting the duct tape into a lock box. Look, I have no choice. The dog’s hair just grew back. And I finally filled in the spots on the wall where the paint had come off with the tape.

But maybe, just maybe, when Junior is older, he can handle a roll or two out in the open. For my son’s sake, I hope that day comes soon. Until then, I’ll be wrapping our Christmas gifts with string.