I took some time yesterday to take Nono to the mall. Just the two of us. She is always requesting time alone with me and I can never seem to make it happen. Anyway, we dropped Beck off at childcare and I made it sound like Nono and I would just be running errands (a loathsome activity in the children's opinion.) so he wouldn't be jealous and then off we went.
Nono had received a Build-A-Bear gift card for her birthday and I was determined to use it before school starts up on Wednesday. Build-a-Bear stores (or "workshops" as they prefer to be called) are places we normally avoid at all costs. I have always imagined them be uber-expensive and so I pretend they don't exist. I was pretty sure that with a $25 gift card we could manage to get her a stuffed animal and at least one outfit if we were savvy about it. Turns out we were not savvy about it.
For those of you who have never had the Build-a-Bear Experience, the process goes like this:
1. Chose a stuffed animal pelt (looks like heaps of skinned cats) from the many, many options. (Nono chose a grey kitten with pink ears and long eye-lashes.)
2. Bring the animal to the "stuffing machine" where your child picks out either a red satin heart or a plastic "real" beating heart (thankfully she did not choose the noisy kind).
3. The employee at the stuffing station then leads your child through a complicated ritual involving kissing the heart, rubbing it on her head (so the animal will be smart) rubbing it on her heart (so the animal will be kind) rubbing it on her biceps (so the animal will be strong) and closing her eyes and wishing before inserting the heart into the stuffed animal. Then she asks your child to spin around in one direction for good luck and spin around in the opposite direction for extra good luck. The employee allows your child to decide how floppy or fully stuffed the animal should be and then sews up the back of the animal.
4. Your child then proceeds to the "fluffing station" where she pretends to give the animal a bath (No water is involved, just an air vent.)
5. Then you clothe and accessorize your animal. They have a pretend dressing room you can use. This is where things can get really crazy, because the clothes don't seem that expensive, but they really start to add up.
You end up having conversations like this one:
Me: Do you want to get roller skates for her?
Nono: Well, she wears glasses, so it's probably not a good idea.
Me: People who wear glasses do roller skate.
Nono: Well, she's only 5 though, so I wouldn't feel responsible.
Me: Oh well, you are her Mom, so you know best.
(Nono seemed pleased with this answer.)
6. You and you child go to computer where you input all of your contact info (um, why do you need this again?) so they can print out a birth certificate for your animal. Who, in our case, is named Pearl Pink.
7. Then you finally go to the register with all of your stuff. We started with a $25 gift card and ended up somehow spending an additional $30. Because Pearl Pink needed Hello Kitty undies and red satin undies and a back-to-school outfit and red sparkly ruby slippers and a fluffy Hello Kitty bathrobe and eye-glasses. I vetoed bunny slippers and a silver sequined headband that kept falling off (the eye glasses kept falling off too, but it was such an endearing choice that I couldn't help approving them.)
The thing is, it was great watching how much Nono enjoyed the process of creating this new toy and mothering it, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I enjoyed the process too. It was definitely one of those times I was glad I have a girly-girl to do these things with. I don't think we will be back ever again, but I'm glad we went just this once. And it may be that Pearl Pink will receive those bunny slippers (and maybe a ballerina outfit and toe shoes - what the heck.) as a Christmas gift.
Nono had received a Build-A-Bear gift card for her birthday and I was determined to use it before school starts up on Wednesday. Build-a-Bear stores (or "workshops" as they prefer to be called) are places we normally avoid at all costs. I have always imagined them be uber-expensive and so I pretend they don't exist. I was pretty sure that with a $25 gift card we could manage to get her a stuffed animal and at least one outfit if we were savvy about it. Turns out we were not savvy about it.
For those of you who have never had the Build-a-Bear Experience, the process goes like this:
1. Chose a stuffed animal pelt (looks like heaps of skinned cats) from the many, many options. (Nono chose a grey kitten with pink ears and long eye-lashes.)
2. Bring the animal to the "stuffing machine" where your child picks out either a red satin heart or a plastic "real" beating heart (thankfully she did not choose the noisy kind).
3. The employee at the stuffing station then leads your child through a complicated ritual involving kissing the heart, rubbing it on her head (so the animal will be smart) rubbing it on her heart (so the animal will be kind) rubbing it on her biceps (so the animal will be strong) and closing her eyes and wishing before inserting the heart into the stuffed animal. Then she asks your child to spin around in one direction for good luck and spin around in the opposite direction for extra good luck. The employee allows your child to decide how floppy or fully stuffed the animal should be and then sews up the back of the animal.
4. Your child then proceeds to the "fluffing station" where she pretends to give the animal a bath (No water is involved, just an air vent.)
5. Then you clothe and accessorize your animal. They have a pretend dressing room you can use. This is where things can get really crazy, because the clothes don't seem that expensive, but they really start to add up.
You end up having conversations like this one:
Me: Do you want to get roller skates for her?
Nono: Well, she wears glasses, so it's probably not a good idea.
Me: People who wear glasses do roller skate.
Nono: Well, she's only 5 though, so I wouldn't feel responsible.
Me: Oh well, you are her Mom, so you know best.
(Nono seemed pleased with this answer.)
6. You and you child go to computer where you input all of your contact info (um, why do you need this again?) so they can print out a birth certificate for your animal. Who, in our case, is named Pearl Pink.
7. Then you finally go to the register with all of your stuff. We started with a $25 gift card and ended up somehow spending an additional $30. Because Pearl Pink needed Hello Kitty undies and red satin undies and a back-to-school outfit and red sparkly ruby slippers and a fluffy Hello Kitty bathrobe and eye-glasses. I vetoed bunny slippers and a silver sequined headband that kept falling off (the eye glasses kept falling off too, but it was such an endearing choice that I couldn't help approving them.)
The thing is, it was great watching how much Nono enjoyed the process of creating this new toy and mothering it, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I enjoyed the process too. It was definitely one of those times I was glad I have a girly-girl to do these things with. I don't think we will be back ever again, but I'm glad we went just this once. And it may be that Pearl Pink will receive those bunny slippers (and maybe a ballerina outfit and toe shoes - what the heck.) as a Christmas gift.
