Sunday, August 16, 2009


When I was a little girl my dollies wore clothes.


I had a few Barbies - they were clothed. My plastic dolls were clothed as well. And when I got my Cabbage Patch doll (at probably a "much too old to have a Cabbage Patch Doll age") - well she had LOTS of clothes. And I still like clothes for myself too.

My daughter? Notsomuch.

Her dollies never have clothes on. If I put an outfit on one of them it is quickly stripped off as though it was most offending. My poor Cabbage Patch doll no longer wears clothes. The doll clothes make their way to a bucket eventually that is put away for some day when my daughter wants to put clothes on her dollies. I hope that will happen someday at least.

Skadi also has my Strawberry Shortcake Dolls. Their clothes, I am quite sure, were never, ever, ever removed. I found little tiny green and white striped tights on the ground the other day and resisted the urge to find the doll and replace the tights that had never before in 30 years been removed. I didn't do it. I instead put them in the bucket.

Then I was stricken by a most painful sight. One that no little girl or mommy should ever have to happen upon. It stuck out painful and made me shudder just a wee bit.

The Purple Pie Man?

His clothes were gone too.

Thankfully he had painted purple tights. But it struck me how nasty an old man doll can really be.


Skadi was putting her dollies to bed last night and she informed me her doll's names.

"This one is Trixie," she said (named after the little girl in Knuffle Bunny).

Then she goes on to the other little doll in her other hand, "and this one is Ron".

Hmmm... wondering who Ron might be.

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