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Sunday, July 28, 2013

And then there's the mind-numbing

When N was 5 or so, she asked for an American Girl doll for Christmas.  Santa, being cognizant of N's general disinterest in any doll other than Barbies and her inability to read labels at the time, chose to leave her an Our Generation doll, which N proceeded to ignore for 4 years.

I was actually going to sell the doll in a recent consignment sale because it sat in her closet with hair all funkified from being tossed around under clothing and other more-played-with items.

N insisted I keep the doll.

This summer N has been playing with a classmate who has around 6-8 American Girl dolls.  And lots of clothes for them.  And a bed for them.  And I think she has a vehicle for the dolls.  She has been to Chicago numerous times to shop at the American Girl Store.

As a result, N has been talking American Girl all.summer.long.  Being a product of me, she understands that she gets more "bang for her buck" if she buys Our Generation clothes.  She spent some of her earned money on an OG doll and clothes because she knew she could get it now rather than having to save up for twice as long if she insisted on AG brand.  N has, though, already asked that Santa bring her an actual American Girl doll (only because she doesn't hear Santa's diatribes on budgeting to which only his elves are privy).

N has also requested that we go to Chicago (or St. Louis or really any place that has an actual American Girl Store).

She is turning her closet into a closet for her dolls.  She is making play food for them and menus for them to read and asking her Nana (who can sew) to ramp up the clothes-making process.

While I am glad she has something to do (besides watch tv) that is creative and keeps her happily entertained, I am also
1. sick to fricking death of hearing about doll names and their favorite colors and their personalities and what 11,000,000 items N would like for them to have from the American Girl Store
AND
2. understanding what kinds of hell my mother experienced when I, as a child, would visit my cousin who had a Barbie Dreamhouse and a waterbed and then return home to the squalor that was my life and say, "I want this and I want that and I want the other."

Who wants to talk human evolution??????

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