Wednesday, May 1, 2013

it fell into the sea

I walked in the door, yesterday, after a seriously windy bike ride. Squísh was screaming. Only it wasn't a mad cry... it was of those that say "Mother, I'm simply beside myself." (My first thought was that Steve had just changed her diaper. She doesn't prefer that these days.) So I ran upstairs to find her. She was sitting on her bed. Shoes on. Coat on. Sobbing. And the beloved dollhouse we keep on her dresser was on the floor missing one side, an attic wall, and a roof. 

Steve was surveying the damage, but he'd been unable to calm Squish. (He told me the house had done it's best impression of falling into the sea.) I picked up Squísh and in between sobs she told me the whole story. The dollhouse was broken - only it sounded something like "BROTE!" and then she brought both of her hands crashing down. She cried a little more and then pointed to the stool sidled up next to the dresser. "FALL!" she said, "MY DA-HOUS!" and then cried some more. She gave the house an anxious look and waved her hands around. It was completely adorable.

We discussed fixing it, and Squísh agreed. We went downstairs to get my hot glue gun. Over the next thirty minutes I glued the side, the wall, and the roof. Squísh flitted about asking questions and letting the dolls in and out of the front door. At one point Erikbear's car showed up and invited Squísh's doll downstairs. "Hey" said his car, (in a much deeper voice than Squísh's doll) "Your house crashed but we moved all the furniture to a new house! It's a better one! You want to come?" Squísh's doll emphatically accepted, and they left me to finish with the roof.

I called them back upstairs when the house was complete. Squísh was all smiles. The drama of an hour before was already ancient history. We put the dollhouse back up on the dresser, took the stool back downstairs, and went to see their 'new house' - tucked cozily in our entry. 

(I love these pirates.)


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