As I write this, I have:
- One 9-month-old granddaughter.
- Two doll houses, both undergoing extensive remodels.
- One charming wooden kitchen mixer with equally charming accessories for making pretend baked goods. (Appropriate for ages three or older, though I’m pretty sure my very advanced granddaughter will be pretend baking by age 2.)
- Another enchanting toy espresso machine in my Amazon cart because every make-believe slice of cake needs a tiny cup of imaginary espresso.
- One oh-so-cute dress that will be a perfect fit in five years, if she keeps growing at her current rate.
- Several piles of children’s books. (If she starts now, she can finish reading them by the time she’s fifteen.)
I’m pretty sure this makes me one over-the-top grandmother.
I didn’t even mention the things I’ve found for free. Was I supposed to leave the hand-crafted doll bed and highchair on the side of the road just because I don’t know if my granddaughter will like dolls or even be tall enough to play with them for another three years? My husband thought so. There is also the abandoned Radio Flyer rocking horse, almost as big as a real-life pony, currently living in my garage. Every time I walk by, it whinnies at me, as if to remind me how ridiculous I am.
Am I trying to win a competition? Do I think Amazon will be out of business in two years, and I will have missed my chance to buy all the cute things in the world? Of course not, Amazon will always be here. I, however, will not. And there it is: I’m afraid I will die before I get a chance to buy all the things and she will forget about me forever.
On the other (less dark) hand, it could be a simple matter of “wherever you go, there you are.” I’ve always been a collector and lover of little things, so I guess it’s only natural for me to stockpile for the next generation.
I was hoping by this age I would have stopped trying to be different than I am–that I would have embraced my quirks. But here I am still wondering why I do what I do and if I’m going to die an untimely death (most likely a slip and fall, involving a small toy).
Even though age appropriate and educational playthings are not as adorable, as say, a tiny mouse in a toy crib, I have those too. The newest addition to the toy basket is a collection of magnetic shapes, some with faces showing different expressions: one happy, one sad, one surprised, one I’m not sure, queasy, maybe? The very helpful saleswoman explained that the faces help babies learn about emotions. And here I thought babies learned about emotions from having them and seeing other people have them. At any rate, all my exceptionally smart grandchild wants to do is eat them.
I would keep writing but I need to get going on her birthday present. Her first birthday is right around the corner, but I’ve been so busy planning her high school graduation party that I’m way behind on what is actually right in front of me.
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