Good Things Come in Small Packages

There are certain groups of toys that I would not miss if we never had them at our house again. These include those racecar tracks that work once and then you can never quite get the tracks to line up right or stay together again; the toys with a million pieces that take hours to build after which you realize they are not really meant to be handled and played with because they do not stay put together in the not so delicate hands of a boy; and toy weapons, which, when you think about it, can really be any toy that you give to a boy. But, there is one group of toys that I like least than all of the others. This group is…the tiny toys. My boys love tiny things. I’m not sure what the attraction is. All I know is the tinier the toy, the more attached to it they become. And the easier it is to lose.

When Jack was little, he had this tiny little lady bug that he carried around and slept with. He lost it at least once a day, but we’d always find it before bedtime. One day we lost it for good. He missed it for awhile but eventually got over it until…dun…dun…dun…he found it again. He was so excited. I on the other hand had hoped to never see that little lady bug again in my life. Because I knew what would happen. He would lose it again and we would have to repeat all of the drama. Which he did. And we did. The very next day.

Now that he is older, I leave it up to him to keep track of his things. He’s pretty good at that, but if he does happen to lose something I usually know where it is or can find it. Sometimes, though, I just have no idea what toy he is talking about or where he was playing with it last or where he might have lost it. All important facts when looking for a lost toy. Here’s a recent conversation with Jack about a lost Star Wars figurine that is approximately the size of a toothpick:

Jack: Mom, I lost Jango Fett.
Me: Have you looked for him?
Jack: I’ve looked everywhere!
Me: Where did you last have him?
Jack: In my hand (said with a “Duh” attitude).
Me: I’ll help you look for him. What does he look like?
Jack: Like Jango Fett (“Duh” again).

Surprisingly enough, with all of the useful information he provided, we have yet to locate the elusive Jango Fett. I’m thinking of hiring a detective.

Here are some of the boys’ favorite tiny things:

I could imagine more comfortable ways to spend a day at the beach, but looking at this picture and Luke’s state of relaxation makes me rethink everything I know about lounge chairs. I think his bucket of water is the perfect end to a hard day of digging in the sand.

Here is another one of those teeny tiny toys that the boys get attached to and lose at least 50 times a day. This one is Luke’s little Pokémon (A side note – the word Pokémon is actually in my spell checker’s dictionary. What is the world coming to?). That is a nickel next to it to provide perspective. You never know how many little nooks and crannies you have in a car until you are trying to find a little toy like this while pulled over on the side of the road.

There is a little village in Colorado called Tiny Town. This is the cutest little place I’ve ever seen. Tiny town is a village of one-sixth-sized buildings with a turn-of-the-century flavor built into the mountainside. A steam train takes you through a tour of the town. When the ride is done, you can explore some of the buildings first hand. Kids always love playhouses. How about a play village?

Doesn’t Luke look like a hungry giant? Notice the drool.

And of course, they love babies, puppies, kittens, and anything that is smaller than they are and that is cute and cuddly. In fact, awhile back they were asking for a baby. Since I am planning on avoiding until the boys are at least 25 years of age any questions about where babies come from and why daddy and mommy can’t (or chose not to) have anymore babies, I simply said, “Babies only stay small for a couple of years. Then they turn into big kids just like you.” That pretty much did the trick. Now they are asking for a puppy.

P.S. I wanted to give a shout out and thank you to my husband’s parents, Frank and Susan, for producing such remarkable offspring and for supporting those offspring in their attempts to realize their every dream.