The Happy Apple Catastrophe

Because I have unlimited free time, I like to browse through old toys on Ebay that I remember from my childhood.

Enter the Fisher-Price Happy Apple, pictured above. It's a medium-sized plastic apple, virtually indestructible, that plays a soft chime sound when moved. I considered bidding, balked at the starting price, and moved on with my life.

Yesterday, while perusing the selection of 1980's workout tapes and corporate giveaway mugs at my local Salvation Army, I stumbled upon an unbelievable bargain: said Happy Apple, for only $1.49. Convinced this was an omen (yes, I'm that gullible), I bought it for my boys.

This was the first mistake. I should have known that the 1970's childhood of a singleton girl isn't the best model for recreation for the 2000's childhood of twin boys.

Last night, after Sage and Thyme were sleepily tucked into bed, I pulled out my rubber gloves, dish soap, and scrubby sponge, and lovingly got to work on banishing prior-owner germs from the Happy Apple. I set the scrubbed Apple on a soon-to-be-sunny windowsill and went to bed.

When I awoke today, it was like Christmas morning. (Well, Christmas morning if Christmas morning involves twin boys saying "Mama, mama, mama" into the monitor while banging against their cribs until you rouse yourself into consciousness.) Once the necessary morning activities were completed, I rushed over to the windowsill and retrieved my sparkling Happy Apple. Was it my imagination, or had its grin gotten even larger overnight?

Hiding it behind my back, I approached my happily playing children.

"Boys! Oh, boys! Mommy has a surprise for you!"

I handed it to Thyme, who was the closest. He took it gingerly, shook it, realized it was ball-shaped and made sounds, and proceeded repeatedly to whack its hard plastic body against the floor with glee. This did not go unnoticed by Sage, who rushed over and wrestled it from him.

Needless to say, before very long, the morning had descended into a heap of tangled small bodies, tears, screaming, and attempted biting.

Long story short, if anybody has a vintage Fisher-Price Happy Apple to sell me, I'm offering $1.49. I'd pay more, but then they'd argue about whose Happy Apple was more expensive.

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This post is dedicated to the beautiful and talented Tink, who actually created a holiday in my honor. I am eternally grateful, Tink.