As many of you know, Reagan enjoys a nice, tasty meal of brightly-colored plastic fruit now and then. She also chows down a good hamburger with everything on it. She has intently played with her faux food and multiple tea sets for over a year.
However, the real prize, the ultimate in fake dinner preparation was the pastel plastic kitchen her parents were never going to buy her. She plays with one at Kidz Day Out (they spell it with a "Z"; my apologies to the English language) every Monday. When we attended a church with a nursery kitchen, she could always be found there when I went to claim her after services. Her mom and daddy are against giant plastic playthings on principle and we vowed not to purchase one. Because Reagan doesn't fully understand stores and toy accumulation, she's never asked us for one. It's easy to say no to a non-request.
A friend recently shared with me that her son had outgrown his ginormous kitchen and wouldn't Reagan enjoy it? I knew she would, of course. I knew she'd be thrilled but inside me a voice cried out, "Don't do it, Lisa! Don't give in to the landfill madness!" I told the voice to shut up and we gratefully accepted the kitchen (which is taller than Reagan) for our little culinary guru.
Reagan's happiness knows no bounds. She plays with it non-stop, often wearing the little chef's apron and hat which accompanied it into our home. Our friend's son also bestowed all of his plastic edibles on our daughter so Reagan is beside her self, festooned in multiple layers of veggies and rock hard waffles.
We eat her creations whether she cooks the meal in the dishwasher or the microwave. We make smacking sounds and she insists our tongues touch the ice cream cone for a more lifelike action. (I'm constantly wiping food items down with Lysol wipes when Reagan isn't looking). She warns us when food is hot and instructs us to blow on it...often demonstrating and thus sharing her hot, moist breath with her diners.
She is in bliss and we, as her parents, grudgingly admit that the kitchen has a place in our home as long as our daughter delights in it so. Also, I'm fairly certain Danny plays with it even when Reagan's not around.
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3 comments:
As long as it keeps getting passed down, you never have to worry about it ending up in the landfill. :)
If you get it used and pass it on, it totally doesn't count toward your landfill points. Just ask Al Gore. :)
And I'd just like to point out to anyone who doesn't know--you are the consumate woman of integrity. Only a die-hard would be faithful to spelling a title the way it's really spelled, even when it hurts the writer's gene in you. Kidz it is. :)
I think this is AWESOME. I'm a little jealous I don't have one! (oh right I do have an ACTUAL kitchen but still...)
The thing that bugs me about Z is that it's pronounced ZED here! Ahhh! Weirds me out!
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