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Samantha Bee is a Correspondent on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart. Her writing has appeared in Chatelaine Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, and she is the author of I Know I Am, But What Are You. Her body of work is best characterized as "unserious."

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Tiny Toys Are Trying To Ruin My Life.

By Samantha Bee |

 

Please don't kill me.

Tiny Toys Will Be The Death Of Me, they will.

Two possible scenarios come to mind.

I will either: A) accidentally step down hard on a Squinkie bubble, frightening myself and causing me to lurch backwards into an Aikido-Roll-Of-Death out the living room window and onto the street below, or B) slowly perish from the extreme exhaustion of searching every nook and cranny of my home for miniature lightsabers, day after day in an endless loop of victory (YAY, we found Luke’s blue Jedi sword!), followed by the inevitable loss and recrimination (Mother, where did you put Luke’s blue Jedi sword?).

Perish, I tell you.

When did my children become obsessed with tiny toys? And why does every tiny toy person come with even tinier accessories, including but not limited to weaponry, detachable shoes, microscopic baby bottles, and lentil-sized passports?

And those lightsabers. Oh God, the lightsabers. As slender as a toothpick, and just translucent enough to blend in with any shade of carpet or floor covering, it is also fun and desirable enough to cause extreme distress when it goes missing. Which it will. Within seconds of your child having pried it out of the tiny plastic hand his parents so lovingly Krazy Glued it into. Oh yes, we Krazy Glue.

But let me tell you what I learned. Nothing intrigues a child more than a toy whose accessories have been attached through the judicious use of contact cement. Somehow they know. The toy just doesn’t feel right. It’s wearing matching shoes. Its hair is on tightly. It’s wearing its sunglasses, and they don’t even seem to be loose or in danger of going missing or anything.

Don’t bother. Your child also has a collection of tiny screwdrivers that he can use to alter all the toys so that after he gets the accessories off for once and for all, they will never again be able to properly hold those accessories, and they will then go missing even faster.

Something That Has Happened To Me Every Day For The Last Month:

Me: (Sweaty from crawling around on the floor for twenty minutes while dinner burns and the baby cries from lack of maternal attention. Sweaty but jubilant, like Gollum clutching the One Ring.) Here you go! Whew! I found the tiny saw!

My child: Thank you! Oh my tiny saw! Thank you! (puts it in the hand of his tiny lumberjack)

3.2 seconds pass.

My child: WHERE DID MY SAW GO?! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?!

If things don’t change soon, I am going to lose my hair from the search for My Little Pony Newborn Cutie’s birthday cake, and I happen to like my hair just where it is. No! Unacceptable! I mean, yes, of course I am the one who buys these toys, thus enabling this insanity, but never mind that! NO MORE. No more Mrs-Toy-Locating-Patsy. The hammer is coming down. I mean, it’s a mini-hammer, but it is COMING DOWN HARD. My heart has grown cold, like the (adorable!) tiny executioner in the photograph, with his (charming little!) battle axe.

It is at this point that I ask myself who I am actually buying these tiny things for. And then I ignore that question and begin searching for my child’s quarter inch long toy stethoscope that fell into the dishwasher by accident.

pause.

What?!

(pause)

He lost it! He’s crying!

(pause)

You don’t understand, though. It completes the set!

(And…crickets)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Samantha Bee

Samantha Bee is a Correspondent on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart. Her writing has appeared in Chatelaine Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, and she is the author of I Know I Am, But What Are You. Her body of work is best characterized as "unserious." Read bio and latest posts → Read Samantha's latest posts →

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17 thoughts on “Tiny Toys Are Trying To Ruin My Life.

  1. Bay at daybybay.wordpress.com says:

    I distinctly remember losing Barbie’s ring at my grandparent’s house in their deep yellow shag carpet. My sister and I searched for hours (or minutes, they’re about equal when you’re 10). Why did Barbie come with a crumb-sized removable ring? All part of the wonder that is Barbie I guess.

  2. Molly says:

    We had an entire world of Playmobile in our basement complete with the three story mansion on which each window had a flower box which contained three tiny bunches of flowers on which the teenie, tiny flowers themselves come off individually. They are approximately the size of sprinkles, and we loved them. We moved out of that house 20 years later and found dozens of teenie, tiny flowers, an itty, bitty copper pot, a miniscule purse, a knife and fork that resembled an eyelash, and one blue kitchen chair for the house we had been searching for for years. We saved all of them, because we still love those toys. God bless you, and all parents, that love their children enough to go blind on Christmas eve and into Christmas morning assembling their tiny mansion including about a billion cheerio-sized flowers. Your children will appreciate it, someday…

  3. Becky says:

    This takes me back to when my son (now 12) lost a tiny lightsaber in the sand at the beach. The panic and distress. Why did I let him bring Luke and his saber to the beach? (sleep deprived mother with a baby). The panic! Thank goodness for ebay. I bought many tiny replacement sabers, mostly in blue!

  4. Amy says:

    The weekend before our baby was born, big sister received a Barbie dinner table set, complete with four sets of cutlery no bigger than my pinkie. All I could think was “thanks, grandpa, for introducing these lovely choking hazards into my house.” luckily, big sis hasn’t noticed as the teeny knives and forks gradually ‘disappear’ into the trash can.

  5. Samira says:

    Me and my sister always lost the shoes for our barbies among other things but when your young and dont like fighting with the shoes anyways because they never flippin fit right it doesnt matter so much i had everything else for my barbies until i had to move had no place to put them and a 9 year old little girl’s birthday was coming up and i didnt have kids or plans to have them at the time now i wish i would have saved them for when my lil girl is old enough to play with them though by then she will probably have something she wants more like those makeup wearing hoochie dolls the bratz sigh

  6. Shauna says:

    This IS my daily life. My son just turned 6 & has just discovered Lego!
    Of course it’s always a melt down cause some piece is missing & I, as the all seeing & all knowing mom, should just magically produce said lost item.
    I can’t count how many times I yell: I’m looking for anymore pieces! How would I know where YOU lost it?”
    And cue tears!!

  7. Kimarie says:

    My son was looking at legos on the ebay app on my ipad (which, for some reason, I had forgotten to log out of) and one-click ordered 50 lego lightsabers. Yes, 50. The only good thing about it is that I never have to search for one (although he’s down to just a few that he can find easily).
    But I did realize one day that he doesn’t care about the accessories and sets nearly as much as I do. I finally had to let go of the desire to keep everything together and let him play with whatever he could find, even if it was a mismatched set. Although it still drives me insane that my younger son removes and swaps the arms and hands from his lego characters.

  8. Mary Rekosh says:

    This is why I only let my children play with giant creepy clown-dolls, and those huge novelty sunglasses that make them look like flies. By the by, check out my latest blog entry: Sleep Tight Little One Because The Magic of Childhood is Sneaking Into Your Bedroom Again Tonight: http://mamasaidknockyouout.wordpress.com/

  9. Kristin says:

    I have a friend with a seven and four-year-old who claims (this has not been verified) that she has only lost a piece to one toy – a clock that has different shaped blocks for each number. It haunts her. My record is precisely the inverse. I am overjoyed when there is only one piece missing from a puzzle. I am in awe of this woman and am tempted to steal parts for several toys next time I am over at their house just to humanize her.

  10. LooLoosMommy says:

    This is so funny! I feel like most of my day is filled with searching for tiny toys! I dream about burning down the calico critter house with all there teen tiny accessories.

  11. eliana says:

    I wish I couldn’t relate to this. Damn lego pieces, especially the accessories. So much sadness in such a small space.

  12. Jennykins says:

    When my daughters were little, the Polly Pockets playsets were much smaller than the new sets. Back then, the Polly dolls themselves were only 1/2″ tall and were therefore frequently lost. The worst part is that the company that sold them didn’t sell replacement dolls. (Bad toy company! Naughty toy company!) So we now have about 30 Polly Pocket compacts that open up into charming little houses, schools, shops, etc. But the dolls are all missing. We saved the compacts because the girls loved them so (I guess I could have put them in a shadowbox as suggested in one of your previous posts!) I suppose when the grandchildren come along, we could set up all of the doll-less Polly Pocket compacts as “Ghost Town Polly” or “Post-Rapture Polly”, or perhaps make fake Polly dolls out of aluminum foil and cat hair, but somehow I doubt that they’ll pass muster.

  13. Stacey says:

    @Kristin: PLEASE steal a piece or two and report back to us! I tried so hard to be that woman, and when I only had one toddler losing relatively large pieces, I managed. But now with 2 boys’ less than 2 years apart, and birthdays within a week of Christmas, the month of January is spent searching for pirate accessories, tiny superhero capes (that are only about 1 inch square and perfectly sized as a cat appetizer) and various other pieces of plastic. I have let go, and unless asked to specifically find a specific part, I just vow to never ever again buy anything with more than one piece. I’ll let you know when that actually happens… And seriously, Kristin, that woman needs to understand our pain. Take a little something, or at least hide it…

  14. Carolyn says:

    @Kristen – I’m pretty sure I have that clock too with the different shaped blocks for numbers. I got tired of constantly putting the pieces back so the next time I had them all, I hot glued them. My husband still gives me a hard time about it. I am completely at peace with my decision. Now my son is 8 and firmly in the land of Lego. He knows that anything I find on the floor is fair game and usually goes straight in the trash. If I find a random Transformer arm on the floor, in the trash. When the rest of the Transformer shows up, it goes in the trash too since it’s missing several appendages. My mother is horrified by this, but once again, I’m at peace with it. I hadn’t thought about hot gluing the light sabers to their hands. Not a bad idea. I might try that.

  15. [...] Samantha Bee, imdb.com, Babble Voices [...]

  16. Allison says:

    Tears were streaming down my face as I read that post. I have made so many fruitless attempts to manage the tiny toy parts. At one point, no Barbie crown, earring or necklace could escape my hot glue gun and all my son’s Lego was colour-coded and housed in a multitude of clear Snap-it containers except the accessories which were further sorted according to purpose and housed in a multi-compartment container likely intended for beads or baubles of some sort. I fought for so long but had to give up. Now it just amuses me. An activity you might consider for one of those days when the kids need something to keep them busy–mix yoursefl a drink, plop the central vac canister down on the driveway and let them search for tiny toy bits. The thrill of the hunt!

  17. [...] thrown up in the air with mock exasperation, as if surveying a landscape littered with tiny Playmobil swords, cracker crumbs, and little pieces of torn up toilet paper intended as the nesting for a dolly bed. [...]

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