pink plane
Never doubt the power of a giant pink plastic plane with the name Barbie written in sparkle letters on the sides, especially during a…
Never doubt the power of a giant pink plastic plane with the name Barbie written in sparkle letters on the sides, especially during a pandemic.
Yesterday will come to be known as The Day of the Barbie Airplane. Or, The Day Mom Brought Us a Barbie Airplane. Or, The Barbie Airplane, My Sister and Me.
I picked up the toy plane last Wednesday from a neighbor who was eager to pass it along, hoping that she could get it out of the house before her daughter changed her mind. I get it, I texted back, knowing that even goodwill has an expiration date. I hauled the thing all the way up to the top floor and hid it on a landing so they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of it if the door happened to open. I’d save it for a rainy day. While they were taking a bath yesterday, I went into the hallway to wipe it down with disinfectant wipes, discovering that the thing had two doors that opened up to reveal the inside of the cabin. Three pink reclining seats, a cockpit with a moveable throttle, a flight attendant station with a tiny microwave door that opens and closes. Right then and there, I wanted to play with it. Instead, I brought it in the house, placing it in the center of the room and covering it with a blanket. When the girls got out of the bath, they wandered back to their room and stopped in their tracks. What is that?!, they asked. They peeked underneath, saw one wing, and nearly lost their damn minds. Off came the entire blanket and they stood there, staring at the thing in disbelief. This is a carefully cultivated look only achieved when you’re the kind of parent that barely buys your kid anything new. They hugged me so hard. Thank you, Mommy, for getting this for us.
For the remainder of the afternoon, dispatches of amazement drifted in from the rear of the apartment. This is so automatically cool! I can’t stop staring at it! The pretend play was next level. Lots of flights took off and landed. The bedroom was busier than JFK. The hard irony is that we’re not going anywhere on an airplane anytime soon.
In the before, it would’ve been unlikely that I would’ve brought a pink plastic airplane into our apartment. For one thing, it’s huge. Right now it’s parked in the middle of the floor in the girls’ room. It’s bigger than both the cats. And so much plastic. But these times call for different ways of thinking. Who cares if we’ll end up fussing and fighting when it’s time for us to pass it along. Right now, it’s bringing joy, play, and that very particular brand of kid credibility one can only get from having a very big Barbie brand accessory as your very own. For now.