The Polly Holocaust

A very sad and troubling event shook our house last week:

The Polly Pocket Holocaust (think ominous music playing in the background).

I walked into the girls' room to behold a horror for anyone familiar with "The Velveteen Rabbit" or "Toy Story." Elizabeth and an unnamed friend had ripped the head off of every Polly Pocket in the toy box. Dozens of bodies littered the floor; tiny arms and legs ripped out of the socket and thrown cavalierly to the side; heads in a pile.

When I asked for an explanation, she said "I thought I had too many of them."

Has the child gone mad? I got mad.

Me (thinking): What do I do . . . . What do I do . .. . What do I do?

Me (out loud): You think you have too many toys? (Repeating a shocking statement in a dangerous voice is a very effective mothering technique)

Elizabeth (hearing the dangerous sound in my voice): Yes.

I take a moment to point out that my dangerous voice needs some fine-tuning. How could she hear THE VOICE and not quake? Actually, Sean doesn't fear THE VOICE either. The only one who gets nervous when I speak in my ultra-soft, murderous tone is Anna, and she's afraid of silly putty.

Me (In a scarier voice): Are you sure you have too many toys?

Elizabeth (now openly ignoring THE VOICE): Yes, I do. That's why I pulled their heads off.

Note to Self: get a scarier voice and a parenting manual.