Stella has 2 Halo action figures – don’t ask me where they came from or if both are, in fact, this Master Chief character. I know at least one is and they’re pretty similar looking other than their sizes, so they are simply known as Big Master Chief and Little Master Chief. For whatever reason, my 2 ½ year old little girl loves these damn things. She loves them to death.
“Poor Master Chief! Help! Fix!” That’s how today started for Stella. She came running to me as I was scrambling to get ready for work waving Big Master Chief in her hand. Or “hands,” I should say. She had ripped his left leg off. I put down my mascara and popped his leg back into joint and returned MC to Stella. A few moments later I heard “Uh oh. Stuck! Poor Master Chief.” She came running back again with 2 fistfuls of MC. Sensing a trend I did not have time fore, I sent her to her father who was still pretending to sleep. “Daddy will fix Master Chief. Give Master Chief and his poor leg to Daddy.” Seconds later she’s jumping on the bed and her father, MC and his leg lost in the shuffle of blankets, pillows, and 8 billion stuffed animals.
Poor Master Chief, indeed. This morning, it was Big Master Chief who was getting it. A few weeks ago, it was Little Master Chief. She bit his hand off. I found a wee hand on the rug and she brought me the body looking like a futuristic Jaime Lannister. She was pretty insistent that I put the hand back on. I tried, but she popped it off again and then commenced chewing on it. The hand is on my kitchen window sill now. I can’t bear to throw it away for some reason.
This is the same child who now sleeps under a blanket of “so sweet” stuffed animals. Each night is becoming more ridiculous than the last, waiting for my little girl to arrange her menagerie around her. And it seems there is some kind of system. Elephant’s ear must be just so (after trunk kissing, of course), Big White Bunny must be arranged thusly, and there is an absolute need for a corona on the pillow whereby her head is nestled by Brobee, Red PuffDragon, and So Sweet Bunny. Finally, she falls asleep with one of Octopus’s tentacles in her hand. I’m thinking of stitching these things together in a big puffy quilt to speed up the bedtime process. I’d probably have to partially disembowel them, though, as many are too thick or fat to allow for good joints. That’s disturbing to think about, but something tells me Stella might not mind. This is, after all, the same child that mutilates the Master Chiefs. She’s like a wee little Shiva.