Thumbelina November 7, 1999 Gifts remembered I got a birthday present in the mail yesterday. It was from Koko and Danny (squidboy). Beautiful earrings made by marbling enamel on metal ...little kitties suspended over the unique marbled brass. Very cool. My birthday was over a week ago, Koko tells me she mailed the package well before that. Minimum two weeks from Ohio to BC. Makes ya wonder what those crazy kids at the post offices are up to, huh? Oh, and they also sent me a little Brandon Bear all dressed up in a skeletal Halloween costume that glows in the dark. Cute as can be, but he's not sitting anywhere near my bed! I can't even imagine what would happen if I woke up one night and saw a teeny tiny skeleton glowing at me from my night stand. Some experiments are better left untested! When I was about 8 years old I had a Thumbelina doll. Thumbelina was the coolest doll. She was small, probably only about 10 inches long, just like a tiny newborn baby. She had a soft, plush body and a tiny motor inside her. The motor, when activated, caused her to wriggle around like a little baby. She had a string that came from her back with a plastic ring attached to the end. When you pulled the string it would make the motor go and she would burst to life. I adored Thumbelina. She went with me everywhere. One day I was playing at a friend's house. Thumbelina, of course, was with me. I had other goodies with me too, the most notable being my long-standing security blanket - worn thin and tattered, but soft and comforting. When I returned from my friend's house, I packed all my treasures into a brown paper grocery bag for the trek home. Upon my return home, I dropped my brown paper bag full of treasures by the basement door and went about doing my normal child-things. (most likely rushing to catch an episode of The Brady Bunch). Thumbelina and the other treasures sat, temporarily forgotten, by the basement door. The next day was trash day. Pausie was trash-man supreme! He emptied every waste paper basket, every garbage can, every possible receptacle of waste known to mankind the night before trash pickup day. Ah, you can see what's coming, can't you? Yup, out she went. Thumbelina, security blanket, various Barbie dolls, the whole schwack…..into the trash. I had no idea. It wasn't until that night, the night AFTER the trash had been picked up, that I went searching for Thumbelina. Some mother. It didn't take long for us all to realize what had happened. Pausie felt like a heel. I felt stripped of every reason to live, Mausie felt helpless amongst the mayhem. It was a terrible day. Not long thereafter, I wrote to Santa. Dear Santa, I only want one thing for Christmas this year. I want my baby back. Please bring me Thumbelina. Thank you, Santa. Love Lisa Christmas Morning, 1969 The snow drifted in quiet blankets against the panes of the suburban home. The tree twinkled in multi-colored splendor. Even before the cold, winter sun rose to greet the morning, she was peeking down the hall towards the living room. From her vantage point she couldn't see the tree, but she knew, she absolutely knew that Santa had been there. She crept down the hall first catching sight of the fireplace hearth where she had left cookies, milk and a carrot the night before. The glass was empty, only crumbs remained on the cookie plate, and the carrot was gone. She smiled contentedly. She padded silently into the room and stopped short when her gaze fell upon the tree. There were presents, gaily wrapped, overflowing from beneath the piney boughs. Her sister wasn't far behind her. The two of them settled on the sofa, barely speaking, as they absorbed the magic of the moment. They both quietly looked towards the fireplace, each knowing that a certain jolly elf had been there only hours earlier. They began to fidget, toes curling and uncurling, fingers twitching, legs swinging. The sister spoke first. "Go wake up Mom and Dad." She was the older of the two, she could make the rules and delegate the chores. The younger agreed, mom and dad should be woken up. She hopped down from the sofa and made her way to her parent's bedroom. Knocking was out of the question. She raced into the room, leapt between her sleeping parents and greeted them with an excited Merry Christmas! Santa's been here, c'mon, c'mon get up!!! The parents laughed sleepily, but obeyed their youngest daughters wishes. Moments later the children were surrounded by packages. The little one, the 8 year old, surveyed the gifts around her. She couldn't tell which one might have the one and only gift she truly wanted. She tore into the packages, ribbons flying, paper tearing, bows sailing through the air. A bead kit. Barbie clothes. A sweater. A purse. A scarf with matching mittens. There was one package left. She held it to her chest and made a silent wish. She carefully opened this one, knowing this was her last chance. She held her breath. As the paper folded back, she saw the lock of blond hair. The sweetly smiling face. The tiny body. THUMBELINA! She couldn't wait a moment longer. She begged her father to cut the doll free from the plastic restraints that held her fastened in the box. Father was busy at the moment, she had to wait just a minute. She couldn't wait. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She turned the box over, noticing the plastic ring and string sticking out of a hole in the back of the box. She pulled the string and watched her baby wriggle in the box. She giggled. She started cutting the plastics straps. One...two...three...Thumbelina would be free any second now. Then she heard the sound. The droning of a little motor. Her baby wriggled on cue. What?? How could...?? Oh NO!!! She had cut the string that made Thumbelina wriggle. The plastic ring fell to the floor. The string wound its way into the squirming body of the doll. It disappeared into the dark, metal-rimmed hole. It was gone. The doll lay lifeless in the box. She freed her baby and cradled her in her arms. She brushed the soft hair against her cheek. She kissed the tiny, plastic face. Father frowned. Mother held her weeping child. Sister giggled. And they all ate turkey that night. I still have that doll. She's in a plastic bag with some other dolls from my childhood. She's a pretty special doll, now dirty and worn. She never wriggled again after that Christmas morning, but she was always my protected baby. And she never again saw the likes of the inside of a brown paper grocery bag. Home Back Forward