Greta has 3 carriages: one is a full-sized perambulator, one is a bright pink-and-orange umbrella stroller, and one is a very tiny stroller not for her to ride in but for her to push her dolls around in. She loves doing that, but, as you may imagine, she also loves actually cramming into the doll one and being pushed around.
Today she got in and I pushed her back and forth like a vacuum cleaner. She leaned over at one point and strained and strained to reach a toy on the ground, a plastic five-by-eight barn that plays synth banjo folk tunes. She carried it with her as she went back and forth.
Then she saw her Lady-bear on the ground. Technically, it's not a bear: it's Lady from Lady and the Tramp
, charmingly rendered in surprisingly huggable doll form, a gift from Loretta Cormier and one of Greta's sentimental favorites. She hugged it close with the other hand while still holding the barn and being pushed back and forth in the toy stroller like a vacuum cleaner.
Then she leaned over and picked up a small shampoo bottle from the ground. She likes toting it around the house, probably because it's just the right size, kind of stubby and small, and thus (as anyone familiar with Shampoo Economics knows) much more expensive than the larger shampoo bottles at the store.
Anyway, when she picked it up she dropped the barn; in picking up the barn she dropped her Lady-bear; finally, she had all three in her hand. It was like the "I'm leaving" scene from The Jerk
I suddenly realized that this portrait of Greta is a portrait of all of us. Can't we just be content to be rocked back and forth pleasantly in life? Certainly it's fun and satisfying, but if only we just had this thing over here. And that thing over there, and that other thing over there
. But having some of those things causes us to lose track of others; having too many causes us to ill-treat all. And yet we don't let go.
Finally she got up and went over and played with a tupperware lid. May we all.