In one day, I found her cell phone, numerous bikini bottoms and some sort of scallop that I'm not sure if it is an article of clothing or not. The top to Polly's convertible has popped off and needed re-attaching…five times today and counting. And I think I've found a few bikini tops, but they are larger than some I've seen worn by the swimming pool, so I'm not too sure. (Okay, I'm sort of kidding on that last one…but just barely!)
For her birthday, Veronica (7) received two Polly Pocket, uh, what do you call them? Packages? Villages? Are they Polly Pocket-villes? There are enough changes of clothes for a tiny village of miniature people. Well, miniature people who enjoy the tiniest of high-heeled shoes.
Just when I'm ready to say, "I'm over Polly Pockets" I stop myself from tossing out all of the Polly World when I talk to my sister: mother of two boys (6 and 5). She has never experienced finding a glorified pink shoe in the nooks and crannies of every conceivable place in the house. What would that be like? I'm not sure. But she might complain about some toys her boys are obsessed with. And I watch how much Veronica enjoys Polly's miniature life and make-believe games—taking her brother along for the ride, playing a role or two.
Maybe I'm grumpy because Polly Pockets is the elementary girl equivalent to the loud music of teenagers. (Do teenagers still listen to loud music to an annoying level?) I guess I'm just becoming an old fuddy-duddy.
The annoyance passes and I revel in the fun kids have playing with these inanimate objects (just like we did when we were younger).
And Polly is back in my good graces. For now.
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