Tiny StuffPosted: December 16, 2014
I’ve always had a fixation with tiny toys. When I was a kid, I wanted my parents to play with me by making little animal figures or colorforms “walk, talk, and do things.” In college, my best friends and I had tiny versions of ourselves (they were Barbie’s tiniest sister, Kelly, and her friends). We sewed them outfits and brought them places and visited every Walmart between Hanover, New Hampshire and Panama City Beach, Florida to see if there were any new “Tiny Us-es,” and what they were up to (“Tennis, Desiree?“). Full disclosure: on one particularly eventful night right after college, Tiny Hipster ran away at the now no longer extant bar Drinkland in Alphabet City (She never even made it to Twilo, poor girl). I called them the next day and left an insane voicemail in which I described what she had been wearing (a denim mini and a one-sleeved zebra print tank top–it was the year 2000, after all), and the scar on her right eye where a man in a bumblebee costume had burned her with a cigarette one night months prior. As if they had found a lot of tiny dolls, and her clothes and markings were what was going to help me find her. I even told them her name…”She answers to Tiny Hipster.”
This tiny stuff fixation is really great when you have kids, because it allows you to have a tiny Hello Kitty playhouse, and a dollhouse, and eleventy-six Playmobil sets and no one judges you. Or almost no one. There’s just something about tiny stuff that makes me feel comfortably fussy, as if I can have everything how and where I want it. I can’t describe it beyond that.
Last year, I coveted a Playmobil advent calendar, and hinted pretty big so that Herr Husband would buy me one. He didn’t. But after the season, they went on supersale, so I bought one at 70% off and saved it for a year.
Now both children are old enough to really enjoy it, so I generously allow them to take turns opening the doors (Das Big Boy opens the odds, Little Liebchen opens the evens). This actually has developed a wonderful comradeship and increased awareness of sharing between them–mom recommends!
It’s a farm scene, and you get a TON of stuff in it. We’re only on the 16th and we have two horses, a pony trap, dogs, a whole rooster/chicken/chick family, two dogs, two kids, an apple tree, lots of veggies, more random stuff, and, the piece de resistance, a wheelbarrow full of horse poop. Yup. That’s what sold me on the set. The wheelbarrow full of horse poop. It emerged on the 14th, and I was beyond delighted. As were the children. Don’t let anyone tell you different: they get their love of potty humor from me.