Amazing Kids! Magazine

My Adventure as a Toy

By Jimena Valdivia, age 11, California

 

The day before my eighth birthday on April 20, I watched the movie Toy Story 3. I was so impressed by the characters that I wanted to be a toy, so I could play all day long with toys, have multiple adventures, and not have to sleep. Then, I didn’t know what toys had to go through.

That night, when I was playing catch with my dad before going to sleep, I caught a glimpse of a shooting star; immediately, I remembered my wish to be a toy. I closed my eyes shut, and with the football in my hand, I began to wish to be a toy.

“Tommy,” I heard my dad say, “your mom said to go inside. Didn’t you hear her?” I opened my eyes. I knew better than to answer my father and silently walked to the kitchen door.

As I entered quietly, I saw my mom sitting down on the wooden door scratching her head as she thought of ideas for her next story. (My mom works as a writer; it looks like a tough job.) I just stood there until she turned around.

“I wondered why you took, so long,” she said. “Aren’t you going to give your tired mom a hug?” She extended her arms widely.

As I ran over to her, I noticed that she had burned herself again. She’s not very good at cooking; she’s still learning to cook at Grandma’s restaurant. I jumped up to my mom and hugged her really tightly as if I were saying good-bye.

After a long hug, we both walked up the stairs to the bathroom, where I bathed and changed into my pajamas while my mom read me a story she had written especially for me when I was four years old.

As I cuddled up for bed, I remembered the wish I had made earlier and wondered if it would ever come true.

When I woke up to my mother and father singing me the birthday song, I was extremely happy to find out it was my birthday. I jumped and hugged them tightly.

“Happy birthday, my little monkey,” she said. “I can’t believe my baby is growing so fast,” she whispered into my ear.

“Did you know that each day I love you even more, my little monkey?” my dad, Bill, said, hugging me tightly. I needed air, but I didn’t open my mouth because I felt like hugs were more important than air. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes made me feel happier and lighter; they were my favorite.

I glanced at my favorite toy and thought, If I ever get the chance to become a toy, I would want to be my toy Sorrel, a monster action figure the size of my hand. (My hand isn’t big, so you could say my favorite action figure is small.)

I let go of my parents, ran toward Sorrel, and slid down.

“Can we eat now?” I asked my mom, turning towards her with pleading eyes. “I’m hungry,” I informed her as my small stomach rumbled like thunder.

My mom turned and said, “Okay, little monkey.” My parents smiled as I grabbed Sorrel, ran out of the room and down the stairs, slid into the kitchen, and fell flat on my stomach with a loud THUD!

Ouch, that hurt! I thought as I rubbed my stomach. As soon as I smelled my favorite chocolate chip pancakes, it didn’t; instead, it rumbled. There were two huge plates; one had a tower of small pancakes while the other plate had a huge pancake.

“Is that one for me?” I asked my mom as I pointed toward the huge pancake.

“Yes, darling,” my mom said as she nodded at me. “It’s for the birthday boy,” my mom told me as she turned to tell my dad something in a low voice.

“Just a minute, Tom,” my dad assured me and returned to a low voice. I wonder what that’s all about, I thought.

I turned to Sorrel, ran upstairs, and grabbed my toy jet.

“Vroom,” I said as I flew down the stairs with my toys in one hand. When I re-entered the kitchen, my mom was pouring coffee.

“Milk or orange juice, hon?” she asked as she turned towards me. I then glanced at my humongous plate. I ran towards my chair and sat down.

“Orange juice please, Mommy,” I answered.

I showered my pancakes with maple syrup and began to eat. After I finished my huge golden pancake, I chugged my sweet orange juice down.

At about 1:00, we had finished decorating our backyard and house. The theme of the party was Toy Story.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” asked a familiar voice as someone opened the front door. My grandparents had just arrived. I ran towards them and hugged them, not because they were my grandparents but because they had brought a huge box covered in blue and green, shiny wrapping paper.

As my dad showed my grandpa the way to the backyard, my mom asked my grandmother to make her famous macaroni salad that I love. While this happened, I played with my collection of action figures.

When the guests stopped arriving at around 6:00, our house was about to burst because this house meant for at most 40 to 50 people contained about 90 people. I didn’t know my parents invited that many people; even some of my classmates were here. As soon as everybody finished eating, my mom and auntie brought out two cakes identical, which were also Toy Story. A large Jello accompanied the cakes.

“Happy birthday to you,” sang all the people who surrounded. I wish I could turn into my toy Sorrel, I wished.

As soon as I blew all my candles, I felt dizzy. Then my surroundings became pitch black, and finally, I went around and around multiple times. What’s happening to me? I thought.

When it finally stopped, I came out through what seemed like a colorful painted tunnel. That was strange, I told myself.

I don’t judge if you don’t believe me, but I just became Sorrel, my favorite toy. This was so cool—just that everything was just a hundred times smaller. All the toys, including me, were in the toy basket.

“Where am I?” I wondered out loud. WOW. Sorrel’s voice was so squeaky; it was really cool.

At that moment two green, plastic soldiers forcibly took me to a secret doorway.

“How dare you speak in the daylight?” echoed a strong, firm, and powerful voice. “Humans might hear you.”

“He broke the number-one ever-made law, sir,” an unsteady voice said.

“Your consequence for talking is being chased by the security Barbie doll,” he boomed again.

Many gasped as he finished saying this. What’s wrong with a Barbie doll? I asked myself.

At once I was forced once again to a room smaller than my room but large for a toy.

I was left alone in that room, which I found out was the room of torture. The only ones in there were the doll and me; they must have been joking around.

“I’ve been told,” was the first thing that came out if her thin red lips.

“You’ve been told what?” I asked, confused.

“Stop stalling. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she told me, annoyed, in her squeaky voice.

“No, I don’t,” I informed her. “Oh, wait, are you talking about me talking?” I asked, comprehending slowly.

“Yes, and stop stalling—”

I cut her in mid-sentence. “I’m not stalling,” I told her. “If I am stalling, how am I stalling, which I’m surely not?”

“Yes, you are,” she told me again. “See, you’re still doing it. Whatever, let’s just get over it,” she said as she walked over towards me.

What’s happening? I asked myself. Now I knew why they gasped when I was sentenced to being chased by her. Her eyes became lasers and her hands, very dangerous-looking saws. I started running as fast as these plastic feet took me because the Barbie’s heels had turned into boots with various nails at the bottom.

I spotted another hidden doorway and ran towards it.

Uh-oh. Here she comes. I swiftly avoided her by ducking and entered it.

Wow. this is the blackest color I’ve ever seen. It’s so black that you can feel it.

“Come back, you little rascal!” the Barbie yelled. Yikes! I thought as I ran deeper into the tunnel.

Oh, why did I ever wish to become Sorrel? As I finished thinking this, the tunnel was going in circles. (But between us, we know that the tunnel I was in was magical.)

Guess what? Once again I turned into someone. I turned into me, Tom!

Suddenly, I was in the middle of opening my presents. There were three piles. The first pile was for toys; honestly, it looked like a mountain to me. The second pile was for clothes; there were a lot of clothes, but the pile of clothes was not as big as the pile of toys. The third pile contained money.

Wow, I just opened a small package, which contained six action figures. One of them was identical to Sorrel; I guessed that meant Sorrel had a twin brother.

After I finished with my presents, I had received 28 toy boxes, $385, and 18 pairs of clothes plus 3 pairs of cool shoes.

You must agree that this day was one of the wildest and coolest happy birthdays.

As I went outside, another shooting star passed. I made a wish again; this time I wished that I would never ever, as long as I lived, be someone else. I wouldn’t stand to be a toy and not have my mom and dad at my side.

I went to sleep at about 10:00; there were still five families.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to my mother soothing me.

“Tom, I know you know this,” my mother whispered into my ear while massaging my scalp, “but, I don’t want you to forget this.” She hesitated. “You will never be alone. Your father and I will always protect you at all costs; oh, I love you, my fuzzy monkey.” My mom hugged me as she continued.

I repeated this over and over again until I fell asleep. You will never be alone.

“Tweet, tweet, tweet,” said the birds outside my window. Ah. I looked at my clock across the room: 10:46.

I looked out the window and replayed my mom’s voice once again. You will never be alone…

Was it just a dream, or did I really turn into Sorrel? I asked myself. I looked over at the last place I put Sorrel last night. He was not there, but I didn’t panic: At least he wasn’t killed by the giant Barbie. He was still walking in the tunnel; he should get here at some point. If he didn’t come back, well, I had another Sorrel to replace him.

Wait, is that Sorrel walking to the toy basket? If I ever told anyone about my adventure yesterday, they would take me to a psychologist. I would rather just keep this to myself.

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