The Tyranny of the Tiny
Last Sunday a friend of mine was in town and spent the evening with me. She is cool and single and has no children.
As she was gathering up her things to leave, she found this.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's the world's smallest toilet tank," I replied, suddenly realizing how very odd my life must seem to her. The only toilet tanks she sees are ones made for regular-sized people, with regular-sized bottoms.
This toilet tank fits only one bottom. A bottom that is exactly 3mm in circumference. You know her name.
Polly Pocket.
Often, as I am tidying up my home or helping my kids clean their room, I am struck by the miniscule oddities that surround me. Sometimes I laugh, as I did when my friend came upon the tiny toilet tank.
Other times, I want to find the nearest noose. (Not for Polly, of course. That would be cruel and sick and macabre.)
Because when all the stuff is out of control, life feels out of control. And sometimes all this tiny stuff makes me feel like some sort of freakish mommy giant, trapped on the set of Honey, Who Shrunk Everything...Except You?
My vacuum's canister could be a Polly Pocket shoe museum. A lint-covered version of a Tiny Imelda Marcos's closet.
Tiny food. Tiny toiletries. Tiny strappy shoes.
Tiny Anakin Skywalker
Tiny Lego "cookie."
Tiny Lego car
Brownie is very skilled in the art of Lego. This is a "spider car" he assembled, comprised of 193 tiny pieces.
And of course Lego cars inevitably break. And of course Cupcake eats the Lego crumbs we never found when cleaning up. And of course I dig out the drooly Legos while Cupcake cries and bites my fingers and curses me with his unintelligible Baby curse words. And of course I curse under my breath that he is eating Tiny inedible things. Again.
What's my point? I don't have one.
I just pray that the Tinies will never band together and rise up in rebellion. For if they do, freakish mommy giant is done for.
Snaps to my mom who gave me the title for this post one day as she marveled at the sheer tiny-ness of Polly's shoes. And the sheer number of them scattered about my house.