I don’t know anyone that enjoys interruptions from an activity they are committed to complete, but I also don’t know a single shrunken man that does not take pleasure in becoming an interruption every chance he gets. I’m not sure if it has something to do with asserting himself in any way he can after being reduced to the size of a doll; perhaps someone can conduct an experiment and discover what delicious hormones are released in the puny brain of a tiny man when he endeavors to annoy the very person that holds his life in her hands.
As seen through my giant eyes, work disruptions always have pleasant consequences instead of the grunts, glares and grousing in real life, no matter what the little man does. Say he’s spirited and stout of character; he will stand his tiny ground and demand his needs are tended, or remind his tall lady that she promised to spend time with him that evening. If she tries to swat him away he might sit his lovely bottom on the keyboard, ruining her document until she relents, or decides to punish him. Either way, he wins, because the punishment always involves loss of clothing and sacred bodily fluids (no, not those—the other ones), and an overwhelming, all-consuming mattress ride.
If our small speck of a man appears meek and compliant, he might decide to obey and “go play with his toy” somewhere just out of her reach, nearly within her field of vision, yet close enough so she may barely hear every fleshy stroke. Who can get any work done under such conditions? I couldn’t, that’s certain! But I also love to imagine he tries to help, truly in earnest and with all his heart, trying to take dictation, or asking to sharpen my pencil every five minutes (with a small blade he fashioned himself out of a tin can piece), and every task is so giant to him as he clumsily tries to accomplish it that I can see his mounting frustration until I can’t help but cover him in kisses and reward him for being adorable.