Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wherefore Art Thou, Boots?
Yesterday Jarrah's school held a toy swap in honor of Earth Day. We were asked to bring in toys that the kids had "outgrown" so someone else could love on them. The ol' "One kid's trash is another kid's treasure" theory.
I, for one, was ecstatic, because Jarrah seemed to embrace the concept and finally allowed me to pack up her twin dolly stroller and a Lite Brite cube (my totally misguided birthday gift a couple years ago--she's never used it for more than three seconds) both of which were taking up space in our playroom, em, living room.
So imagine my delight when I arrived for pick-up and she led me ecstatically to her cubbie, wherein lurked...well, see for yourself: The Dora Lamp.
Now, let's start with the obvious. It's Dora. She of the shrill, grating shriek and the unnatural fixation on maps. Then there's the fact that she's practically life-size (see photo of Jarrah for perspective.) And did I mention she's a LAMP? That--according to Jarrah--"glows up?" (One of Jarrah's teachers gave me the hand and said "I take no responsibility if that thing burns down your house.")
Perhaps you can't fully admire the texture of The Dora Lamp, which--if I'm not mistaken--is composed of masticated Fruity Pebbles that have been sculpted with a little kindergarten paste and perhaps some yacht varnish. Tasteful and subdued, similar to a Louis Tiffany.
Of course I was so grateful that I immediately wished to know which generous child had been willing to part with Dora, and Jarrah was happy to tell me it was Sophia. Now that I think about it, Sophia's mother did scram with suspicious rapidity at the end of the day.
All around us, delighted children were gleefully holding their new toys aloft. They had games and books and princesses, and every last one was thrilled. But my heart ached for them, because not one will truly know the joy of being the proprietor of The Dora Lamp. There will always be a little empty space in their lives where she could have been. Because that joy, Dear Readers, will be ours alone.
Some of my friends were there, and I couldn't resist reveling in their misfortune and loss. "Did you see this?" I asked. "I feel sooooo bad for the rest of you. Because there is nothing in this room even worthy of the reflected light of this find. No, don't say a word. I can see on your faces that your hearts are in pain."
For some reason, they laughed when I said that. Even though they have nothing to glow up on a cold and cheerless night. Poor, poor dears with their empty, non-illuminated lives.