Infiltration

Today we had a full day to kill, so we ended up going to the Big City. We decided to stop by our favorite independent toy store, and give Neko a chance to spend her $9 she’s saved from her allowance. In a store chock full of wooden, classic toys, how could we go wrong?

Well, I’ll tell you.

There was the full-on temper tantrum that began when we pulled up to the store and she realized she was not at “the star store.” Our logo-aware child identifies Toys-R-Us by the star around the backwards R. We convinced her to get out of the car and go in amidst cries of, “But will Ariel stuff be there?”

Um, no. But she did manage to find the one little corner where they’d crammed in two or three Barbies and those stupid Disney Polly Pocket ohmigod-if-we-lose-that-microscopic-shoe-one-more-time-I’m-going-to-jump-into-heavy-traffic dolls.

And this is the part of the story when we realize, in case we had any doubts, that she totally has learned the concept of saving for a certain item. And has a will of steel. We relented and went to Toys-R-Us, mostly out of curiousity about what this item was that she couldn’t stop discussing…something about a chair and dolphins and blahblahtackyblah.

And we found it. She sunk to her knees as if praying at the holy grail of all things Disney, and whispered, “There it is!” And, as you’ve seen from the photo above, it’s really…something. It also costs $35. This will take her six more weeks to save for. And she doesn’t seem bothered. There was not a mention of purchasing any other item.

We are in big trouble. At least Ariel’s chariot doesn’t have disproportionately large boobs and ridiculously thin thighs.