Thursday, March 20, 2008

the mind of a three-year-old and the story behind rainy day bunny.

See Csilla's FRIEND OF THE DAY over there on the right? --------->

That's Rainy Day Bunny.

Here she is again, just in case you read this post long after Csilla's FRIEND OF THE DAY has changed:

Csilla found Rainy Day Bunny in my bedside table drawer yesterday while we were playing a giant game of Easter Egg Hunt. (Apparently she thinks we need to gear up and practice for the big day on Sunday when the real Easter Bunny comes.)

There's a bit of a back story behind Rainy Day Bunny that I must tell before I can tell the current story of Rainy Day Bunny.

About eight months ago, Csilla lost her beloved "Pici Nyuszi" (Pici means small and Nyuszi means bunny in Hungarian. Pronounced roughly as PEET-see NYEW-see). See Exhibit A below:

That's Pici Nyuszi. I've include the quarter for scale. For the record, Rainy Day Bunny is almost exactly the same size, but that little tidbit of information is irrelevant to the story.

Pici Nyuszi was Csilla's BEST FRIEND OF THE DAY for a long time, before she branched out into her current menagerie of friends. Every night at bedtime our house would ring out with a chorus of "Where's Pici Nyuszi?!" and "Have you seen Pici Nyuszi?!" because Csilla just couldn't sleep without her.

One day as we were heading out to run some errands, and against my better judgement, I let Csilla bring the oh-so-small Pici Nyuszi with us. Of course, it got lost.

That night at bedtime, Csilla was a bucket of tears. She was so upset that I almost cried too; and not just because Csilla was crying. In fact, I was upset about losing Pici Nyuszi. I'd become pretty fond of the little sweetie myself. I tried to console Csilla and told her that I was sure Pici Nyuszi was at the bank (where I thought we'd left her). From my perspective, the bank sounded safe and might be reassuring, but Csilla was horrified.

"All alone????!! At the baaannkkkk?!" she cried.

"Pici Nyuszi can't sleep in the baaaaaannnnnnnk! There's no bedddddd at the bank! Whaaaaaaaaa!"

More crying.

It was awful.

First thing the next morning I got dressed and headed out to retrace our steps in the hopes of finding Pici Nyuszi. I checked the bank, the grocery store and the coffee shop. All with no luck. She was gone. One of our stops had also been at the toy store so I checked there too. The lovely store clerk was so moved by my story of the lost Pici Nyuszi and our crying daughter, that she ended up giving me Rainy Day Bunny. For Free. Sweet.

After much searching with no luck, I came home without Pici Nyuszi. Luckily, we'd distracted Csilla enough that she didn't mention Pici Nyuszi at all that day. It was like walking on egg shells. We avoided any talk of any kind about bunnies for fear it would set Csilla off. There were many popsicles eaten and cookies devoured. At bedtime that night, we practically put on a travelling circus to avoid any mention of Pici Nyuszi. It worked, and slowly Pici Nyuszi faded from memory, to be replaced by a constant rotating circle of friends.

The lovely gift from the toy store clerk, Rainy Day Bunny, went into my bedside table drawer to be pulled out the minute Pici Nysuzi was remembered or mentioned.

About a three weeks passed with no reference to Pici Nyuszi when one day Nana (aka my mom, aka the hero) walked in the door with none other than Pici Nyuszi.

You can imagine the excitement. We practically opened a bottle of champagne. Csilla was thrilled and the love-affair with Pici Nyuszi resumed, but not with the previous fervor. A few other friends had inched their way into her heart, paving the way for more friends to come.

Apparently my mom had found Pici Nyuszi at a plumbing supply warehouse.

"Huh?" you say. "What was Pici Nyuszi doing at a plumbing supply warehouse?"

Well, I'd completely forgotten that we'd made a quick stop at a plumbing supply warehouse to pick up a part for the kitchen sink my mom and I were installing that day. Odd quick stop. Not on our usual errand run. Easily forgotten.


Yes, my mom and I know how to install kitchen sinks. We also know how to install toilets. In fact, so does Csilla. The three of us have installed three toilets together over the course of our home renovations. I actually did a scrapbook layout about it:


With the Pici Nyuszi coast clear, Rainy Day Bunny stayed in my bedside table drawer to be pulled out, well, on a rainy day. I kept it as a back up. Just in case of injury or upset major (or minor).

And back we come to the beginning of the story...

Yesterday, eight months after the Great Pici Nyuszi Incident of Summer 2007, Csilla found Rainy Day Bunny in my bedside table and asked me why it was there.

And because I had no intention of telling her the really long story I've just told you I said, "I was saving her for a Rainy Day."

"Ohhhhh. She's sooooo cute! Can I have her? I'll name her Rainy Day Bunny!" Csilla said, batting her long eyelashes at me.

And to further cement the deal, she looked out the window and said, "Look! See? It's raining! Today is the day you saved her for, right mama?"

Well Csilla's just so darn cute that I had to say yes.

It was hers and Rainy Day Bunny was named.

And here's "the mind of the three-year-old" part of the story:

Today it wasn't raining.


And Csilla cried because she couldn't play with Rainy Day Bunny today. And there is no convincing her otherwise that Rainy Day Bunny can be played with every day. Rain or Shine.

In her mind, Rainy Day Bunny can only be played with on rainy days and that's that. (Forget about the fact that she came up with the name and the rule. She was still crying).



That was the tale about the mind of a three-year-old and the story behind Rainy Day Bunny. I love that kid, but she's nuts.

What Have We Learned Here?

1. Always have a back-up of favourite toys. If you don't, get one.

2. If you don't have a back-up of favourite toys, don't take them out of the house with you. Especially if they are very small and easily lost.

3. Kids are fickle. With enough popsicles and cookies a kid can forget about almost anything. Even their favourite toy.

4. People who work in plumbing supply warehouses must not have kids. I'm certain we were the only group of two ladies and a little girl who came into the place that day. We've been there many times and they know us by name. We have an account. And I'm sure we don't look like 99% of their customers who come in looking, well, all plumberish and male. Couldn't they call to tell us that Csilla's toy had been left behind? Come on people!

5. Csilla is really cute.

6. There's finally a reason to be happy about how much in rains in Vancouver. Csilla will only cry 10% of the year about not being able to play with Rainy Day Bunny. The other 90% of the year she's good to go.


Corey~living and loving said...

oh I loved this LONGGGGGGGGGGGG story. tee hee....I need a potty break though.

I'm so glad it all ended well though. How did you mom find it at the plumbing store....was it sitting out?

Carolyn said...

Corey - sorry for the long post! I think I'll put a warning on my sidebar that people should take a potty break before visiting my blog. And maybe there should be some sort of award for turning a two second story into an epic tale?

To answer your question... One of the guys held it up when my mom walked in and said: "I think this might belong to you". I'll say it again. Why didn't they call us?!?!

Kaycie said...

Logic escapes three year olds. It does make for some awfully cute stories, though.

Jan said...

So hilarious. Glad it went well for you guys. I have to kiss my daughter good bye for school. Blog you later sweets.

david mcmahon said...

Thanks for leaving me the link to this post. I'm actually in Sydney this weekend but couldn't resist checking out the link.

As a Dad, I can thoroughly identify with this.

And Rainy Day toys are really a metaphor for life itself!