A sad, sad tale

This is the singing stick.At least, it used to be. It really is just a 10 cent dowel rod that came with a pennant that N got at work. Cute Girl adopted it, banished the pennant to the dark abyss that is the toyroom closet, and transformed the dowel rod into a conductor's baton.
Many a happy hour has passed as Cute Girl has conducted her invisible chorus. But tragedy struck the other night - the singing stick BROKE!

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!!!!!!

And this is what's so funny about that:

Cute Girl was refusing to sleep one night so she was confined to her room with the door locked. As usual, she took up her post at the door, forcing the blanket that N had stuffed underneath of it out, and projecting her shrill little voice into the hallway. After what we deemed an appropriate length of time, I allowed N the honor of being the hero and opening Cute Girl's door if she promised to stay in bed. I was busying myself with tidying the bathroom when I heard a sobbing sort of unintelligible sorrow coming from her room. I heard N exclaim. And then I became curious.

N then came into the bathroom carrying the above. My eyes grew and a stunned silence ensued. Then I cried, "OH NO! The SINGING STICK! What happened?!?!"
N just shook his head and said in a flat tone, "I don't know, I guess she was trying to pry the door open or something and it snapped." He then went back to the bedroom to comfort an overly distraught little girl. He finally got her back in bed after promising that Mommy would get her a new one.

And the really funny thing is that all of the above-stated emotions were and are 100% true and accurate. I was literally floored when I saw the broken stick. It was like someone had cancelled Christmas. Or they stopped making our favorite cereal. Or my favorite tv show was cancelled. Or chocolate was made illegal. Ok, maybe not that bad.

But, what were we to do? She loved that thing. I loved that thing. It kept her entertained for hours. (See this.) Last week it went missing, and we were all miserable until I found it protruding from underneath her mattress. Oh, the joy that shone on that little face when I pulled it out during storytime.

Who would have thought that one cheap, flimsy, measley little stick really could materially affect the happiness of the entire Crapo household?

And there's still no new singing stick.

And she keeps reminding me.