I have a surprisingly long history with miniatures.
Not because I love dollhouses.
Not because I’m fascinated with the diminutive.
Not because I am a collector.
But because I’m a collosal (the opposite of miniature) dummy.
And time after time, I order items off of the internet, wrongly assume they will be the size that I think they should be (rather than taking five seconds to research the dimensions), and open my delivered boxes to find that what I ordered was not of any functional size like I assumed it would be, but…teensy tiny like a teacup poodle. If not smaller.
I suppose my first miniature episode wasn’t really my fault as much as it was a misunderstanding between Mr. Gore and me. In this particular story, I actually knew what I was getting into.
Mr. Gore, on the other hand, was kind of blindsided.
Gideon was a baby and we were living with my parents while we waited to see where we were going to live/work/eat/sleep. We had few things at the time to call our own: a car, a crib, lots of clothes, and a storage unit full of dishes and knick-knacks. No real furniture. No washer and dryer. And certainly no benches.
And so when I saw this beautiful “farmhouse bench” come up for sale at Pottery Barn Kids for what I thought was a very reasonable price, I did my typical I-can’t-breathe-until-I-purchase-this-item schtick, calling my husband at work to “sell it” to him, giving him all the points of merit in the bench’s favor, lamenting how sad our life will be without it, and, basically, doing everything short of begging to get my way and get it quickly. You know, before it sold out!
But I was surprised by how easily he acquiesced, especially after I told him that the sale price was $99. “Sure!” he said, with ease.
“…Really?…” I responded, sort of shocked that this had been so easy.
“Well it sounds like a pretty good deal,” he said, “especially if you really like it.”
I did! I loved it. And so, before he could change his mind, I quickly ordered it, my heart soaring at the beautiful bench Gideon would now have in his room. We might not have had any real people furniture, but our son would now be the proud owner of a very important bench.
Cut to a couple of weeks later when my poor husband returned home from work. Coming through the front door, he announced, “There’s a box on the front porch from Pottery Barn Kids.”
I gasped dramatically. “That’s our bench!”
“What bench?…” he asked, looking at me quizzically.
“Remember? The bench you said I could order?” I replied.
‘Yeah…but that box out there is tiny.” he said.
“Yeah…” I said, confused.
“That can’t be the bench.” he said flatly.
“It has to be.” I replied, knowing that no other Pottery Barn Kids purchases had been made.
“…What kind of bench did you order?” he asked me, his voice now colored with confusion and maybe a little suspicion.
“A kid bench.” I answered.
There was a very long silence, followed by a look of understanding on my husband’s face, followed by one of dismay.
Followed by his next question, silently posed, but voluminous in its implications:
“Are you telling me we just spent $99 on a kid bench?!…” he asked.
“Actually…” I said with a grimace on my face, “$99.79. And items that end in $.79 are non-refundable…”
Part 2 – coming up next!