Nina In New York: Welcome To The Dollhouse, But Don't Touch It Cause It's Mine

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Oh, January. You are, by far, the toughest month. February is a B, for sure, but she's mercifully brief. March is an A, without a doubt, but at least he brings with him the promise of spring just around the bend. January, on the other hand, is like the painfully unfunny comedian who has the misfortune of going on after the guy who brings down the house. December is joyous and sparkly and bright and exciting; January makes you tear down the cheerful decor, go on a diet, reign in the excessive spending, and then sit and cry in the dark because it's always so damn dark. Thanks a lot, January. You D.

Then again, one may see the first month of the year as a time for new beginnings. Or, in my case, for a much deserved do-over. You see, as a child, I didn't have a proper dollhouse. Nor did I much care, as far as I can recall. I had every toy I could have wanted, and I don't think I ever even asked for one. Flash forward several decades, and my daughter received a "starter set" of Calico Critters for Hanukkah. And I can honestly say that no gift has made me happier since my husband offered me a diamond ring.

As soon as I unpacked that darling set of perfect little bunny relatives and their phenomenally adorable accessories the size of my child's pinky fingernail—baby pacifier, picnic food, carseat, kitchen tools, eyeglasses—some long-ignored switch in my brain got flipped. I was in love. It's more than love, it's practically lust. I adore these objects so much, I'm tempted to eat them (Choking hazard: not suitable for children under 40). I never knew how badly I needed this in my life until now. I've unwittingly tapped into some deep, primal desire to play with teeny, tiny toys. I want to spend all day dressing the rabbit family and setting them up in little scenes in their little house. Sometimes, the whole family is bustling around the house, in various states of napping, cooking, or relaxing in front of the television. And they don't conform to gender norms, believe me! Other times, they're preparing for a big outing to the lake and scrambling to pack up the sandwiches and inexplicable yet somehow perfect basket filled with sushi and sliced eggs. Here, the mother and father have taken their elder set of twins out for a picnic, leaving Granny and Grampy home to babysit the infant twins and a third sister of whom the Rabbits seldom speak. She resides in a small garret off of the attic nursery the other children share and spends most of her day watching a static image of another rabbit family reunion on their old, wooden-framed television set. They say she communes with the ghosts of the ancient chipmunk clan who built the house long before the Rabbits moved in. The others can hear her bumping around in the night, gathering acorns and bits of twine for the chipmunks' ghastly return.

See? So fun.

Of course, my daughter is far too young for all of the micro-miniature pieces, and all she wants to do is mess up my sets, strip the Rabbits of all their clothing and lie them haphazardly about their house (and my house, too). I can only imagine the hangovers they must have when they wake up after she plays with them. She just doesn't understand them like I do. She mixes up Granny's and Grampy's glasses every time! I do right things once she's gone to bed or busied herself with a different toy, but I'm considering moving the whole set up to my bedroom. You know, to keep it in good condition until she's old enough to appreciate them fully. It's probably the responsible thing to do. Plus that way, I can order that grocery store set I've been eyeing. My daughter's got a birthday coming up soon, after all.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!