Akka got a magic wand for Christmas. I embraced the girly toys to the extent that I could and got her a tiara, a wand, fairy wings and a pair of long white gloves.
The wand was a big hit. Spells were cast, objects appeared and disappeared, and there was much magic. Then, the other day, she was sitting quietly, absentmindedly playing with the wand, when it snapped. She looked immediately distraught, shot me a look, then said “It’s ok. It’s mine. I don’t care” as her mouth turned down at the corners.
‘Oh no!’ I thought. ‘Not real life! Not disappointment, sadness, and an awareness of the built-in obsolescence of cheap plastic toys!’ It broke my heart a little bit that she was so sad about her wand and that she didn’t want to show me her sadness. She brought me the wand, I deemed it irreparable, and found myself quickly offering to get her another one. I tried to console her, asked her if she wanted a hug and she said “No!” even as her arms opened and she fell into mine.
We tried to glue the wand but it didn’t work. We tied a string through the butterfly-shaped top of the wand and created a ridiculous bit of bling that she wore around her neck to school. Since then, both she and Malli have been casting spells, making objects appear and disappear, and spreading much magic with the headless wand. Real life. Disappointment. Learning that when cheap plastic stuff breaks it doesn’t really matter.