On many nights, 7:30 pm is synonymous with one thing for our five-year-old daughter, Sissy.
Polly Pocket time!
Polly Pocket time with dad that is.
Sissy gets her bags of figures out, complete with clothing and options, and we play.
After the "gals" properly accessorize, the Polly Pockets have tea parties...
We prepare for an antique show...
Or sometimes, we arrange them as an audience to cheer on a musical performance by one of the Polly Pockets; strangely the figure singing sounds always identical to Sissy's voice.
But at least one odd thing occurs during this 7:30 play time.
--WHAM! Polly and friends will be suddenly struck by a large toy cement mixing truck; or
--SLASH! Darth Vader will appear swinging a lightsaber and knock over several tables and chairs; or
--BOOM! Soldiers in green camouflage and armed with automatic weapons launch a flanking attack.
Sissy will react with a surprised laugh, and then scold me with a "Daaaaaddddyyy!"
Order in Polly World is then restored.
Wait, can you blame me for the violent intrusions to the doll gathering though?
I believe it is simply my male genetic code righting itself to equilibrium.
And, perhaps Polly Pocket time is the real reason I blog anonymously.
14 hours ago