Attached at the Thumb: How I Almost Became a Siamese Twin

One of my son’s gifts this Christmas was a large play rug complete with roads, railways, hot dog stand, police station, fire house, etc. As I vacuumed it this morning I noticed that some of the binding had come loose in one corner. I was afraid that if the binding became too weak the colored threads that make up the pattern of the asphalt and buildings would unwind and the rug would be ruined.

I didn’t think that the hot glue gun would be the proper tool to remedy the potential problem and duct tape was right out, so I headed into the kitchen and rummaged through the junk drawer in search of the super glue. It did not occur to me during this time that super glue would dry quickly and bleed up through the fibers of the binding thread.

So there I was, a very few minutes later, saying a very fervent prayer that God would sever the thread from my increasingly sore thumb; I had applied the glue to the rug and pressed the split binding back into place, and I was stuck. Fast. I was afraid that if I yanked my finger away from the rug I would take the binding with me making the attempt to fix it more than futile; or I would leave about twenty layers of skin on the edge of the carpet as I could already feel the glue-chemicals gnawing away at my flesh.

For a moment it seemed that my only alternative would be to roll up the entire mat and take it by my attached thumb to the kitchen where I would need to cut it from my body like an unwanted growth with a pair of scissors. But God heard my prayer and the super glue relinquished its hold upon my thumb, leaving only a few precious layers of flesh behind. Perhaps, in the interest of self-preservation, I should invest in some nice, safe craft glue.