The problem with the toy of your dreams . . .

. . . is that it ceases to exist the moment you awaken.


Melody came into our room this morning, frantic. She could not find the "little bit bigger, not a lot bigger, just a little bit Mermaid, Cinderella and Jasmin" that she had just bought while at the store with Mommy.

Mommy: But when we were at the store yesterday, all we bought were Charlie diapers.
Melody: Not THAT store--the one we went to later.
Mommy: But we didn't go to a store later.
Melody: Yes we did. We went to the biggest store ever and it had only princesses and I got to pick whatever I wanted to pick and I picked an Ariel, Jasmin and Princess that were just a little bit bigger and bring them home with me.
Mommy: I don't remember this.
Melody: They weren't a whole lot bigger--just a little bit bigger. And the Cinderella could fly. And I didn't have enough money, so you gave me extra money, so that I could buy the Meraid, Cinderella and Jasmin that were just a little bit bigger, but not a whole lot bigger.
Mommy: Are you sure this was real, are you sure it wasn't a dream?

And Melody bursts into tears. She proceeds to spend the rest of the morning in mourning over princesses lost.