I Five-Fingered A Little Person

RE-POST ALERT 
From October 2009

The Allure of the Fisher-Price Little People

Tonight I had a doctor appointment where I regressed to third grade behavior, which some of you may find incredibly disturbing. If you can't handle it, exit now. You have been warned.

Arriving a few minutes early, I sat alone in the small waiting room. I looked around and noticed the same Sweet Pickles Weekly Reader books I saw the previous week were once again sitting on the end table. While staring at the cover image of Goose Goofs Off, the old '80s TV commercial jingle played out in my head just as it did the last time, "Smart moms know how kids minds grow... Sweet Pickles..." Soon images of that stupid bus rolling down the street and a narrator or child exclaiming, "Here comes the Sweet Pickles bus!" followed.

Watch it here:


Next to the books I noticed something I just had to have. A little person. An original 1980s golden haired ponytail-sporting figure with exaggerated eyelashes and large smile. In kindergarten I absolutely loved Little People. Today's Fisher Price Little People aren't the same. I had the house, the barn and I think a school house. Today, they're larger and rounder, probably built to keep three-year-old kids from swallowing them or shoving them up their noses.


I scoped out the scene and made sure I was in the clear and quickly pocketed the little gem. I don't know why I needed to have this. When I was very young, I went through a phase where I would five-finger other kids' stuff. I especially had a thing for Snoopy and Hello Kitty school supplies and stationery items. If one of the girls left a Hello Kitty eraser out on her desk, I would quickly swipe it and bring it home.

It really gave me a strange feeling of euphoria. Like I had scored points in a video game or won something. I loved looking at my little treasures in the privacy of my bedroom with the door closed. There was something about unveiling them from my pockets and spreading them out on my twin bed. I'd sit under the pretty princess-like blue and white gingham canopy and matching bedspread and just admire each little item as if they were nuggets of pure gold. This was my secret and I never told my friends or my family.

Eventually I outgrew this devilish phase even though I never took anything of worth really. I just had this thing for random trinkets. I don't know what it was about these items.

Tonight I left with a little trinket and I keep examining it and I know I will probably return it on my next visit. On the drive home I wondered if the doctor would notice it. What if a child asks, "Where is the little person?" I better remember to return it.

Update: I returned the Little Person the next office visit. I never told anyone, even my husband. I'm only telling you guys, my trusted readers.