Dollhouse Drama
A while ago, I went on a “sort of” cleaning spree in an effort to de-toy our living room and save our fireplace.
The poor fireplace was suffocating under the mounting piles of stuffed animals, games, puzzles, Disney princesses, oodles of McDonald’s Happy Meal toys (embarrassingly, there were many….) and dollhouse paraphernalia. And Mr. and Mrs. Potato Heads. Lots of ‘em. So I scooped up all of my daughter’s “friends,” basket-ized them, and freed from the weight of plastic manufactured figurines, I swear our fireplace looked at me and smiled.
A dollhouse, a basket full of dollhouse friends and a box of Potato Heads remained on the ledge of our fireplace, and I kind of thought she would be mad. All of her other toys were also in the living room – and accessible – but strategically tucked away into cabinets. So I expected her to be all: “Hey dude. Where’s my toys? Y’all.”
But what happened was amazing. She didn’t miss all of those toys that I had stored underneath the bookshelves. Instead she focused on the one toy that was left: her dollhouse. And everything in it. She was totally satisfied chatting with Nana, Mommy, Daddy, Baby, Strawberry Shortcake, Cinderella, Tinker Bell and Baker Smurf. In fact, she preferred it. When she wasn’t coloring or puzzling or asking me repeatedly for a snack, I found her in front of that dollhouse. Just a talkin’. And I discovered that my kid had a really vast and cool imagination. So I started to “read” a magazine in the chair next to her dollhouse, and got a really intimate glimpse into the mind of a two year old. And if our little two year old ever ran our house, with her very own cast of 3-inch plastic dolls, this is what our lives would look like:
Mommy Daddy and Nana would do everything together – like eat dinner, shower and yes, use the potty. As a team. No longer would they be separate people. They would be referred to always as “MOMMYDADDYNANA!”
Smurfs would serve every single meal with chicken nuggets, broccoli and chocolate milk. In that order. We would all eat standing up.
Tinker Bell, Little Mermaid, Belle, Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty would all sleep face down – execution style – whenever they needed a nap. Only Mommy (that would be me, not the dollhouse mommy) could wake them up. With a touch of my finger and two magical words, “Wake up.” Simple. Yet effective.
The bunny rabbit would spend all of its time on the potty, when MOMMYDADDYNANA! are not on it – together, of course.
The roof would double as a slide and all of the Strawberry Shortcake “girls” (blue girl, purple girl, orange girl and pink girl) would take turns sliding down it. Everyone would land on their faces but would not require any medical attention.
Mr. Potato Head would have a nose for a mouth, a mouth for a head and an ear for an arm. And he could still smell, talk and hear just fine.
The Shortcake girls would hold weekly dance-offs. The purple one would always win.
No one, I repeat no one uses the door in the doll house. Everyone enters and exits through the window. And when they jump, they always say, “Weeeee!” And, again, no one has to go to the hospital as a result of their falls.
The dollhouse lamp always sits next to the real lamp in our living room even though Luke and I almost always trip on it. And if you ask my daughter why it’s there, she will very simply reply, “That’s the light.” Duh.
The dollhouse dog eats dinner on the kitchen table. And he’s not noshing on dog food, either. Baker Smurf serves him chicken nuggets, broccoli and chocolate milk. In that order.
Sometimes all six princesses break out into a choreographed dance together. The ABC Puppy provides the music and Luke is the choreographer.
And there you have it: The Real Dollhouse of Our house. This may not be my preferred lifestyle. I mean I love my mom and all but I wouldn’t want to share a bed, a shower and a potty with her. But I love watching my sweet girl use her imagination and create her own world where everything magically makes sense. And Smurfs serving dinner doesn’t sound too bad, either.
October 18, 2011