From the very first moment that our little Melanie ripped away the ribbons and tissues and saw the pink and blue Crystal Cottage DreamTube TM , we knew that we had scored with the best Christmas present ever.
“Beebee!” she squealed and smacked both hands together over and over in such a cute frenzy that we couldn’t stop smiling at each other. She knew what it was. Even though it wasn’t activated, she recognized it from the commercials.
“Beebee! Beebee!” She just kept clapping and jumping and shouting. She had forgotten already about all of the other presents that she had opened. She didn’t care about the wrapping paper or the ribbons or even on the plate of still-warm cookies.
“Beebee!” Melanie banged her hands on top of the little house and tugged on it – it was no higher than her knee but much too heavy for her to lift. “Beebee!” she yelled and banged on the roof a few more times. Then, she looked at us with a cute little frown. “Beebee?”
Cooing at her comfortingly, we jumped up from the sofa and moved all the earlier presents aside. Her newest toy, we put in a place of honor on the coffee table. Melanie squealed in excitement even louder and would have climbed up on the table with it, but my wife pulled her into her lap and motioned for me to start videoing again. I moved around to the other side so that I could zoomed in on the present and get Melanie’s face at the same time. I wanted to make sure that I caught her reaction when my wife pushed the switch.
The Crystal Cottage DreamTube was a perfect miniature of our house, but done in translucent pink plastic. Exquisitely filigreed blue ridges on the plastic traced the doors and windows and even suggested the stucco exterior and textured shingles and skylights of our rooftop. Below the plastic, multicolored bits of glitter floated and sparkled in a thick pink liquid, slowly forming recognizable shapes – our kitchen, our dining room, the family room. Melanie squealed loudest when an image of her bedroom took shape in the crystal cottage. My wife and I laughed happily.
The manufacturer had done a marvelous job with the specs and image files that I had sent in with the order back in the summer. The little house was perfect, and very durable, too. Strong enough, according to the Sugar & Snips Labs website, to withstand even the roughest toddler. We were glad of that. Melanie had broken a few things around the house since she had become so confidently mobile, and we didn’t want this broken and the contents spilled all over the place. It would be much too messy to clean up, not to mention expensive and time-consuming to replace, if Melanie pitched a fit over it.
So we didn’t flinch while Melanie happily pounded on the little house. My wife and I just smiled at each other, proud to have made this Christmas so special for our little angel. I hoped that the contents would prove to be as well-crafted. I’d had to send the samples in for that even earlier than the architectural data.
“Go ahead, Mommy. Turn it on so Mel can see ‘Beebee’!” I finally said in a mock gruff voice that startled Melanie and made her stop pounding and stare quizzically at me.
“So we’ve found a name for it already, I see?” My wife laughed as she leaned over and thumbed the charming little doorbell three times – twice down, once up – to deactivate the interior décor simulation. The glitter stopped forming shapes and spread. Once it was completely diffused in the thick liquid, it slowly began to flow clockwise. So far, it was working exactly like it was supposed to. I sighed in relief. There had been no time to test it when the techs delivered it yesterday.
“Not found, dear. Given, by our little angel, right, sweetie?” I focused the cam on Melanie, but she didn’t look up at me. All she cared about was what was inside of the house, not visible yet, but she knew it from watching her videos.
“Beebee!” she yelled and poked a chubby little finger at the cottage door, trying to do what my wife had done but not knowing the proper sequence. The viewing mode had already been activated anyway, and she didn’t even have time to fuss before the glitter started to swirl rapidly, round and round the insides of the house. The sparkly motes began to spread apart and the pink liquid lightened, becoming clearer. A bubbly little lullaby began to play.
Our daughter yelled in joy. The tune was just like the one in the ads. She knew it instantly and pressed her little face against the plastic, her nose right against a tiny front window. The glitter was settling now. The liquid was such a faint pink that the house’s contents were almost visible. She started squealing “Beebee” over and over, so jammed together that it would have sounded like gibberish to anyone but us.
We knew what she was saying, and when the contents finally came into view, I heaved a sigh of relief. It looked fine, at just the right stage according to the instructions. A little more time in the DreamTube would accelerate its growth to just the right stage for Melanie. Right now, floating there in its crystalline incubator, it looked perfect – a perfect six-month old fetus, exactly like the sonograms in our baby book, just much smaller. It would be exactly the right size when it was ready to release. I heaved another sigh in relief and smiled as I let the cam record the moment.
Everything was perfect. Melanie was babbling and hugging the little house as hard as she could.
“Just think, Mel! A few more days, and you’ll be able to dress it and rock it and feed it its very own little bottle! What do you think, Mel! Do you like it?”
“Beebee!” she squealed and pounded the cottage. At its center, her InstaTwin PlaymateTM fluttered its eyelids and clenched a tiny fist around its UmbilicordTN a few times as the glitter slowly stopped swirling and settled to a stop.
“Beebee!” she squealed and smacked both hands together over and over in such a cute frenzy that we couldn’t stop smiling at each other. She knew what it was. Even though it wasn’t activated, she recognized it from the commercials.
“Beebee! Beebee!” She just kept clapping and jumping and shouting. She had forgotten already about all of the other presents that she had opened. She didn’t care about the wrapping paper or the ribbons or even on the plate of still-warm cookies.
“Beebee!” Melanie banged her hands on top of the little house and tugged on it – it was no higher than her knee but much too heavy for her to lift. “Beebee!” she yelled and banged on the roof a few more times. Then, she looked at us with a cute little frown. “Beebee?”
Cooing at her comfortingly, we jumped up from the sofa and moved all the earlier presents aside. Her newest toy, we put in a place of honor on the coffee table. Melanie squealed in excitement even louder and would have climbed up on the table with it, but my wife pulled her into her lap and motioned for me to start videoing again. I moved around to the other side so that I could zoomed in on the present and get Melanie’s face at the same time. I wanted to make sure that I caught her reaction when my wife pushed the switch.
The Crystal Cottage DreamTube was a perfect miniature of our house, but done in translucent pink plastic. Exquisitely filigreed blue ridges on the plastic traced the doors and windows and even suggested the stucco exterior and textured shingles and skylights of our rooftop. Below the plastic, multicolored bits of glitter floated and sparkled in a thick pink liquid, slowly forming recognizable shapes – our kitchen, our dining room, the family room. Melanie squealed loudest when an image of her bedroom took shape in the crystal cottage. My wife and I laughed happily.
The manufacturer had done a marvelous job with the specs and image files that I had sent in with the order back in the summer. The little house was perfect, and very durable, too. Strong enough, according to the Sugar & Snips Labs website, to withstand even the roughest toddler. We were glad of that. Melanie had broken a few things around the house since she had become so confidently mobile, and we didn’t want this broken and the contents spilled all over the place. It would be much too messy to clean up, not to mention expensive and time-consuming to replace, if Melanie pitched a fit over it.
So we didn’t flinch while Melanie happily pounded on the little house. My wife and I just smiled at each other, proud to have made this Christmas so special for our little angel. I hoped that the contents would prove to be as well-crafted. I’d had to send the samples in for that even earlier than the architectural data.
“Go ahead, Mommy. Turn it on so Mel can see ‘Beebee’!” I finally said in a mock gruff voice that startled Melanie and made her stop pounding and stare quizzically at me.
“So we’ve found a name for it already, I see?” My wife laughed as she leaned over and thumbed the charming little doorbell three times – twice down, once up – to deactivate the interior décor simulation. The glitter stopped forming shapes and spread. Once it was completely diffused in the thick liquid, it slowly began to flow clockwise. So far, it was working exactly like it was supposed to. I sighed in relief. There had been no time to test it when the techs delivered it yesterday.
“Not found, dear. Given, by our little angel, right, sweetie?” I focused the cam on Melanie, but she didn’t look up at me. All she cared about was what was inside of the house, not visible yet, but she knew it from watching her videos.
“Beebee!” she yelled and poked a chubby little finger at the cottage door, trying to do what my wife had done but not knowing the proper sequence. The viewing mode had already been activated anyway, and she didn’t even have time to fuss before the glitter started to swirl rapidly, round and round the insides of the house. The sparkly motes began to spread apart and the pink liquid lightened, becoming clearer. A bubbly little lullaby began to play.
Our daughter yelled in joy. The tune was just like the one in the ads. She knew it instantly and pressed her little face against the plastic, her nose right against a tiny front window. The glitter was settling now. The liquid was such a faint pink that the house’s contents were almost visible. She started squealing “Beebee” over and over, so jammed together that it would have sounded like gibberish to anyone but us.
We knew what she was saying, and when the contents finally came into view, I heaved a sigh of relief. It looked fine, at just the right stage according to the instructions. A little more time in the DreamTube would accelerate its growth to just the right stage for Melanie. Right now, floating there in its crystalline incubator, it looked perfect – a perfect six-month old fetus, exactly like the sonograms in our baby book, just much smaller. It would be exactly the right size when it was ready to release. I heaved another sigh in relief and smiled as I let the cam record the moment.
Everything was perfect. Melanie was babbling and hugging the little house as hard as she could.
“Just think, Mel! A few more days, and you’ll be able to dress it and rock it and feed it its very own little bottle! What do you think, Mel! Do you like it?”
“Beebee!” she squealed and pounded the cottage. At its center, her InstaTwin PlaymateTM fluttered its eyelids and clenched a tiny fist around its UmbilicordTN a few times as the glitter slowly stopped swirling and settled to a stop.
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