Me and Polly Pocket are classy.

I'm such a child. 

I love the fact that I have Polly Pockets back at my parents house. And yes, this will be weird, but I want to play with them. I absolutely love (yes, present tense) my Polly Pockets. More than Barbie, more than any stuffed animal, more then crayons and paint. Polly Pocket rules.

We were recently at my parent's house and in my closet, I found a a box of random things. There was some pretty crazy things in there, that apparently I was attached to? 

Anyway just to give you folks an idea:

- a rattle in the shape of a phone receiver

- a plastic Belle figurine

- a metal bookmark

- a torn piece of ribbon

- A toy teapot that was a toy plastic cat family's home (complete with stick-on furnishings, yet no cat family)

- tiny books that came with my American Girl doll

(I don't know why I had that stuff. Don't ask me. I won't be able to tell you... my only explanation would be that I was a weird organizer of things when I was younger. I'm a weirdo.)

But also in that box, I found a tiny Polly Pocket "locket" that I freaked out about! Oh my gosh! It was the greatest thing ever! My initial thoughts were, "What's this? A tiny blue dog head that opens up and has a tinier dog and tiny lady with fake hair!? YES!!! Holy cow...WHERE''S THE REST?"And when I said, "where's the rest," I meant, "Where is the huge plastic bin with my Polly Pocket mansion and diner and grandma's house and cool cat house and other hand sized homes with tiny girls that have painted on clothing/hair and clearly a swallowing hazard to any child under the age of 6?" 

I'm a fast, incoherent thinker.   

Just to give y'all an idea of how massive my collection was, I could build a whole town on the floor of my bedroom. I had several houses, a couple of businesses, and a purple and pink mansion. If Barbie was only an inch tall, she would have NOTHING compared to my Polly's. I had a legitimate preschool, groomers, restaurant, clothing boutiques and a hippie cat family that could have easily been gangsters disguised as hippie cats. My mansion had three levels to it and a ball room that when all the Polly's and 'Pete's' were snapped down, spun. 

GREATEST TOY EVER. 

And just to classify, these were the OLD Polly Pockets, not the stupid new ones that children couldn't easily eat.

Seriously, all I would love to do is to go in my room, shut the door, and play with my Polly Pockets. 

Yes, as a 25 year old. 

Is that weird?