A Home For Polly

Tiny...pretty...blonde...wears cute little shoes that are a bitch to find when they fall off...yes, she's all of these things...but behind that big smile...Polly's distraught...because she's missing something. "Polly needs a home, Mommy.", SweetPea tells me one morning. GASP...I had no idea that Miss Polly Pocket was, in fact, homeless. Or maybe, like the singer, Jewel did long ago, maybe she lives out of the back of her van and plays guitar for lunch money. But hold the phone..."SweetPea...Polly has a home...she lives with us." (brilliant comeback, no?) "No Mommy, Polly needs her own house." Oh, OK...so Polly isn't homeless...she's an upwardly mobile young lady who wants to venture out on her own. I've got it now.

Yep...Polly and her need for new digs is all I've been hearing about since...oh I don't know...just after Halloween. As it happens, we were wandering the toy aisles in WalMart one morning looking for Play Doh (our stock had either been mixed into one big rainbowy mash or had dried out) when we passed the section with the slew of My Little Pony/Polly Pocket/Littlest Pet Shop paraphernalia...bad move #1 on my part. "OOH Mommy...what's THAT?" "That" was...well...this...I wracked my brains for a comeback...should I walk as fast as I can in the other direction with an "I don't know what that is, sweetie"...should I find something else to distract her with? Nope...being the horrible liar I am...I just tell her the truth..."It's a house for Polly, sweetie." Enter the conversation about her Polly needing a house. More importantly, the fact that she wanted Santa to bring Polly a house...because, you know, it's all about Polly's welfare.

Now...here's the thing...we'd been watching her have fun imagining with her Polly Pocket, her Disney Princess plastic figurines and her My Little Pony collection...and we figured it would be a great Christmas idea to get her this really pretty doll house we'd seen at a small, locally owned toy shop that specializes in "old school" toys...a lot of them handmade from wood. So, The Man raced out one Saturday afternoon to pick it up and, later, hide it away in our attic. It looks a little something like this...



And now...we hear that Miss SweetPea wants a little plastic Polly loft complex from Santa. I think I'm all clever and I say, "We'll have to ask Santa nicely if you want a house for Polly. Maybe he'll make her an even bigger, special one...just for her!"...to which she answers, "But Polly likes this house." It's a very perky little statement, said with a big smile...not whiny like, "I'm gonna have a cow if it isn't this one" but very matter of fact, like "oh no, Santa doesn't need to go through all that trouble...there's one right here that's just perfect."

Ever since that day, whenever anyone asks her "what are you going to ask Santa to get you for Christmas?" she promptly tells them, "I'm getting a Polly house." Oy vey. Let me say, this child has never...ever...thrown a fit over not getting what she wanted. I'm 99.9% sure when she sees her big, beautiful dollhouse that she'll be thrilled. The there's the .1% chance...the chance I dread...that I'll get a reenactment of the scene from the movie Parenthood, where Steve Martin's kid has a complete mental breakdown because he didn't get the exact toy he'd asked for. SIGH...this is the first year that SweetPea is aware that she can ask Santa for what she wants...and that she actually knows what she wants. We keep stressing to her that everyone should be thankful for whatever Santa...or anyone else...gives us. I'm pretty sure she gets it. I HOPE she gets it.

Now...we wait...two and a half weeks...to see if Polly is going to find her hip new pad acceptable...or if we'll end up with buyer's remorse.