The March of the Pingvin

There is a sweet little soft toy at Ikea, called the Klappar Pingvin. My Baby A, who turns up his nose at the trains and trucks that delight his brother, has decided that the sun rises as sets on his flipping Pingvin. The reason for the mild expletive is that there was a nerve-shattering day a few weeks ago when the Pingvin was missing for a full day. We thought it was at Stop and Shop and combed the parking lot for several hours before giving up. We found it at home much, much later. The Pingvin has been rolled up inside a tent, which was inside a toy box.

Deep sigh.

As a result of this experience, which happened at the same time as Dani had her experience losing her child’s precious squishy red stuffed toy lobster, see The Yellow wallpaper, December 21, 2005, I felt very worried about the lack of back-up Pingvins in my home. So the next day I hustled down to Ikea on my way to a book club meeting, and tried to buy another one.

Tried is the word. They were all sold out at that store. I asked the nice lady at the desk in Self-Service to look in her magic computer and see who had the required beastie. The on-line source kept freezing, so I collected the phone numbers for the four closest Ikea shops to me and called them all on the way to, as I was arriving, and during the beginning of my book club meeting, much to the amusement of my book club members. I was horrified to discover, after speaking to some very nice people in various states, that the Pingvin were all gone. The worst part is that this was a limited edition, and no one will get any more. Once the store runs out, they are Pingvin free from then on.

Well, that just won’t do for me. When it comes to Baby A, or Baby B, or the DH, or myself, for that matter, and something that is important to my little family’s quality of life, I will not let Hell bar the way. Nor will I let Ikea bar the way, when it comes to it.

So began my phone-calling career. Since December 20th, the day of the Great Pingvin Scare, I have called Ikea in New York, New Jersey, Georgia, California, Illinois, Massachusetts and one store in Canada. I hoped I might run across a Canadian with a heart who would be willing to help me. Did ya know, I was born there, eh?

I quickly realized that A, the stores that listed 5 to 10 or 20 Pingvin on line really only had one or two or none in stock, and that B, when it comes to the “No, we don’t ship our in store only merchandise out” policy, not a single Ikea employee would bend the rules. I asked, and so nicely too, that someone just buy some Pingvins and then sell them to me at a later date. I said, “You know, just like eBay; that’s not against the rules, is it?” The employee I spoke with sounded all stuffy and offended as if I was trying to buy a vial of controlled substances or something.

Besides calling my friends in New York, Atlanta and Chicago to enlist their aid, I also sent an email to my Aunt L. in London, England, and left a message for my mother to call her brother, my Uncle C. My friends all called back and/or said they’d go to Ikea to shop for me, but to a one, nobody could find any flightless Antarctic waterfowl at any Ikea around. Yes, the USA, as of December 31, 2005, is Klappar Pingvin free.

BUT – there are still Pingvin a plenty in two of the London stores, and over 200 in Edinburgh. The customer service rep I spoke with for Ikea UK said two of the three London Ikea shops have 100 and 120 each and Edinburgh just got their shipment before Christmas. My Dear Sister, who was in Italy over the Christmas and New Year holidays, was unable to help. Yes, there is an Ikea in Florence, but as I called her to enlist her capable assistance just as a freak snowstorm hit Florence, blanketing the city in a crippling 4 inches of snow (hey, yes it was crippling for Italy - it was the first snowfall in Firenze in 20 years!) She was not able to make the 45 minute drive over to the Ikea on Via Fracesco Redi for me.

Que palle.

So I tried to ask my mother. I know her brother, my Uncle and her only sibling, lives in Edinburgh, and my mother also runs a business restoring old houses in Scotland with this fella Mister A. I called her and asked that she call either her brother or her business partner, once Christmas was over, and ask them to pick up some Pingvins for me. Not only did she say that she thought I was being ridiculous, but she also said she was just too busy after the office being closed for a few days to make any calls. I pointed out that she could call any old time over the next week or so, but would she call some time soon, as these toys seem to be selling out fast. She said, “Darling, I can’t just call up people and ask them to go shopping for me. I am up to my tonsils in mail here at the office and my brother is so flaky and Mister A is worse – he wouldn’t know a penguin if it bit him. Besides that, I know him, and he’ll say, Yes, I’ll help, then he’ll go to Ikea and forget what he went for.” I asked why was she in business with such a moron and she got all sniffy and rang off. This was on December 27, and I gave up on her help.

I sent another email to my Aunt L in London, wondering why she wasn’t replying, and pinned my hopes on her. A few days went by, and I called a few more Ikea around the globe, but no one seemed willing to throw me a bone. Or a Klappar Pingvin either.

Finally, on January 3, I called my Aunt L. I don’t call her often, because rates to the UK are really expensive, but I figured what the heck, I’m burning up the lines to the UK anyway. I called and asked, “How is everyone? How is Great Auntie? Mummy said she was a bit ill on Christmas Day.”

My Aunt L. told me Great Auntie died a week ago.

I was shocked. Not by her death, she was my father’s mother’s twin sister, so that would make her about 99 years old. She had also been increasingly fragile for the past 10 of those years. When I lived with them in London in the early 90’s it took her most of a morning to run into town on the bus to do her shopping. It was amazing that she did so much; like take a bus at age 80 plus for 20 minutes, walk all over and take the bus home. She had had cataract surgery thrice, had fallen and had broken bones several times, had some other health issues, but seemed indestructible.

No one is indestructible – I had forgotten that.

I had also forgotten how incredibly self centered my parents can be. My beloved Great Auntie, my favorite Aunt’s only Aunt, my best loved Grandmother’s twin sister dies, and my parents don’t feel it necessary to tell me. I called my mother the next day, and her excuse was that she had forgotten to call. She had forgotten to call for EIGHT DAYS? She said, “Oh, the office has been so busy, I am up to the rafters in mail, we had such a hard time getting hold of your father’s brother, we just forgot about you! I apologize.” HMPHF!! Apologize, bull-oney. She also "forgot" to tell either my brother or sister, and she spoke to my sister the same day Great Auntie died, and to my brother only two days later, when he called her. I simply furious - I can’t speak to her right now.

I am going to have to get back to this post and let you all know about the march of the Klappar Pingvin. The march from Scotland to the USA, that might have begun today. I think this tale will end happily for my little boy, but for me, this tale is full of fury right now.