It’s been a little while since the day that Avery and I tried to play Polly Pockets together and I ended the session by saying, “Mommy just isn’t very good at playing Polly Pockets.” (That was my excuse for cleaning her room instead of playing.) I just get bored with it. If she can’t manage to get a certain dress on Polly, I’m happy to help; if she tells me what to do, I’ll do it. But, even though I used to spend hours by myself with my own dolls, playing pretend just doesn’t interest me anymore.
Last night Malin and Avery found me and surprised me with a lecture. If you’ve ever heard one of Malin’s lectures or epiphanies, then you know they come complete with dramatic hand gestures and intense facial expressions. She’s so serious that you want to give her your complete attention, but she’s so cute that you want to pick her up and squeeze her.
They had obviously been discussing their mommy’s shortcomings. And they had come up with a winning argument, tailor-made to Ruthie Voth.
“Mom, if you can tell a story, you can play Polly Pockets. If you can write a book, you can play Polly Pockets. If you can write a NOTE, you can play Polly Pockets. All you have to do is make up a story!”