I Bought a Barbie :: Confessions of a Mother Who Got Sucked In
I think the rapture may have passed us by, but somehow, today, at about 3:15 PM (est) I must have had an out-of-body-experience.
Nothing else explains it (except maybe temporary insanity?).
Can strep throat become strep brain?
(Actual that makes a cool acronym. BIBAB. As in "I was struck with an overwhelming case of BIBAB" OR "when the BIBAB gets ahold of me, I do crazy irrational things").
Anyway. I did it. And if you think "no big deal" you have to understand that Barbie and I have a history. And when I look over it, I see that I have been losing ground at an increasing pace:
2008 (Rowan Age 3) : Curse You Barbie (and Your Little Comb, too!)
2010 (Rowan Age 5) : Holding the Middle Ground (And It Isn't That Bad)
2011 (Rowan Age 5.5): Barbie is in the House
A slippery slope!
You see, I don't hate Barbie.
I was a Barbie girl in my day.
I had the Corvette!
But I hate the pervasive, insidious stuff she comes to represent.
So, while I have not completely banned her from the house, I have stood on my high ground by not being the provider of Barbie and her fashion minions.
I honestly don't know how it happened.
Having tried every other place in town for small peat cells for starting seeds, we went to the dreaded WalMart. We went to the gardening section, found them and for some reason veered into the toy section.
OK, the reason was that I wanted to know what *heck* a Zooble is.
I even made Rowan promise there would be no asking for toys, no meltdowns over pink toddler cameras as had happened the last time we were any where near a toy section (and that was just last week!).
We were not buying anything today.
I was resolved.
So we turned down that pink aisle of doom.
And didn't get even the length of a cart into the smooshy pinkness when Rowan *gasped* at the Fairy Barbie that she "always wanted".
This is where the out-of-body bit comes in.
Because next thing I know, she and I are discussing the merits of a brunette fairy over a mermaid whose tail turns into a hoodie and her hair turns pink in cold water.
The mermaid won. Hands down.
You can take her in the TUB!
As we rolled away from the toy section I asked Rowan if she was as surprised as I was.
She nodded, big eyed, clutching her mermaid doll, not trusting this stranger who just helped her pick a Barbie for no reason at all.
When we unpacked the doll (from its Houdini-esque packaging), Rowan was delighted.
But I was a little bummed.
Because while the doll has long soft *colour changing* hair she doesn't come with a comb?!
What's up with that?
So there you have it.
But I will always swear the BIBAB made me do it.
(Slinking off to hide my shame, and maybe try dunking the new Barbie in the cold water to see her hair change!)♥ Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Google Buzz
Lori @ Beneath the Rowan Tree