8.28.2006

Ruins Of The Day



When we moved into our house, we didn’t have the furniture for a formal dining room and didn’t feel the need for one anyway. Since Lo was only two, we decided just to use that space as a playroom for her until we got in the mood to entertain anyone besides our closest friends and immediate family, something that never happened.

Lo rarely actually plays in there these days, but the toys continue to pile up and I continue to throw them into the various boxes, crates, and wagons, or to create little stacks against the wall. And every so often, Biggy goes through and sneaks out a few items—games with missing pieces or stuffed animals she’s lost interest in or should have outgrown. Ideally, he shoves these deep in the curbside trash, and Miss Lo is none the wiser.

If only things had gone so smoothly this time.

Yesterday’s toy box casualty was a three-year-old stuffed Spiderman doll, about four feet tall, that Lo had decorated with glitter paint back when she got it. She never plays with it anymore, but it must move itself around the house, because I’m always tripping over it—in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the closet.

Biggy placed the doll in the big Waste Management receptacle, making sure to cover it up good with pizza boxes and newspaper. She’d have never missed it, either, if the garbage men hadn’t decided to make it their mascot.

As luck would have it, the garbage truck came while the elementary school kids were all standing around the bus stop with their parents (Biggy’s job, in our case), waiting for their ride. Once the truck had finished loading up in the cul-de-sac, it headed back out, past the bus stop, whereupon one of the dads, Steve, exclaimed, “Look, it’s Spiderman!” Indeed, Spiderman was hanging on the back of the truck, hooked where a shovel might ordinarily go.

Lo was horrified. Biggy was panic-stricken.

But wait—there was hope. The truck made some progress but was in sight, when Steve shouted, “Hey, Spiderman fell off in the street!” Biggy would be saved. With the bus pulling up, he promised Lo he’d go rescue what had now been promoted to Favorite Friend status. With Lo still in shock but snuffling her relief, the bus took off for school, and Biggy started walking up the road.

Alas, before he could get within shouting distance, the garbage men, having discovered Spidey missing, returned to retrieve him in the nick of time, then disappeared, leaving only the stench of sour milk, dirty diapers, and rotten potato peelings.

I wouldn’t want to be Biggy when Lola gets home.

10 comments:

Collin said...

Shame, shame, shame.

minus five said...

i'm betting ten bucks that jack gets blamed for the whole thing. poor jack.

Biggy said...

oh you'll love this MF. It was actually Jack's spiderman that he won at Six Flags. Lola simply claimed it as hers the minute he brought it home.

minus five said...

i knew there had to be mistreatment of jack tie-in somewhere in that story. tania conveniently left that part out. its good that you have decided to come clean, but i doubt that story will make lola cry to you any less when you get home.

Collin said...

You could always play headgames with her...tell Lo there never was a Spiderman doll. Pretend you have no idea what she's talking about. She'll either forget about Spidey or be scarred for life.

Tania Rochelle said...

Oh, Jack will prevent that ruse, Collin. He's officially pissed off. I'd forgotten he won that thing, of course.

Poor Jack.

MCALDWELLC said...

Maybe you could just tell Lola that Spiderman ran away and so will the rest of her toys if she doesn't play with them. That would explain the dwindling pile of toys in the "toy room" and would make her feel responsible. If you are going to scar the poor child, go all out.

minus five said...

why didn't you just throw jack in the dumpster? that's basically what you do to him every day anyway.

Tania Rochelle said...

It's better to keep Jack around. And blame everything on him.

minus five said...

sorry, i wasn't thinking like an ultimate child abuser when i made that last statement.

About Me

My Photo
Writer, teacher, student, mom.

Fresh Flowers Delivered