Thursday, Ryan lost Papa Smurf. (Long story short: Papa and Smurfette were cake toppers on Norah's birthday cake back in January. We've played with them every waking minute since then.) They were at Bounce Depot (indoor place with inflatable castles and slides) while I was teaching an evening online class, and Papa fell out of Norah's coat pocket.
He whispered it gently to me as we were making dinner that night.
"I lost Papa Smurf," he said so quietly, I could barely hear him. His face looked as if he had been the cause of a 30-car pileup and fled the scene. Norah didn't know at this point... she was eating a Krabby Patty (cheeseburger) and watching Smurfs on TV. He was lucky... usually she likes the cake-topper Smurfs to watch it with her. "Look, Papa Smurf! You're on TV."
So, Ryan was simultaneously in the running for Worst Dad Ever and Best Husband Ever, as I, and I alone, am assigned to do the voices for these Smurfs all the damn time and I sometimes want to chuck them both out into traffic.
But she loves them so much.
Anyway, the next day Ryan went to Bounce Depot after work and reclaimed Papa Smurf. Yippee.
Then on Friday night, my sister came to entertain Norah while Ryan and I did our taxes. She took her out for frozen yogurt and shopping, which was good because children should not be exposed to the language and violent outbursts that take place when Ryan and I are actually faced with our finances.
They came home and what did Norah have? Smurf WORLD. She pealed the Toys R Us bag off of the huge box and said, "Mommy, you're going to freak out!"
"Thanks, Auntie Sarah," I said, with my middle finger nonchalantly scratching my eye.
"She picked it out!" she grinned.
Smurf World is a giant Smurf head that unfolds to a landscape that includes a mushroom house, playground equipment, a waterfall, and a skyscraper, which makes no fucking sense at all. It also came with Gargamel (I'm not even going to Google this shit to make sure it's spelled properly) and Azreal. The cake-topper Smurfs are the perfect size.
Of course, the pictures on the box showed even more Smurfs.
And then the next day, probably still reeling with quilt over losing Papa briefly, Ryan frickin' went and bought a little set of more damn Smurfs-- the ones that fit in the little house and merry-go-round.
And I have heard "Mommy, can you do the Smurfs?" thirty thousand times since last night, making the total since January nine billion.
Oh, and for Easter? My parents got her a stuffed Papa Smurf and a classic Smurf lunch pail, which is exactly like the one I had as a child. That I actually had a soft spot for, but clearly my family is out to get me.
But now it's time for bed, and I will relish my Smurf-free time until 6:30 comes and I hear through the monitor "La la la la la la la, Smurf along with me!" Sigh. That is just too smurfin' early for that.