Illustration by Melissa Jefferson
My daughter bought her first American girly-girl doll last month at New York City’s mega-land of such things. The moment we set foot in the store, we got sucked right in and came out on the other side much like John Cusack in “Being John Malkovich” – frazzled and confused on the New Jersey Turnpike and eager to return! The best part? — getting to snuggle my daughter on the bus ride home while she held on to her new look-alike, the signature red bag tucked neatly under our seat.
No sooner did we return home, than I found myself styling the doll’s hair. The hefty price tag took some skilled lobbying on the Dad-front, and twirling the synthetic locks into a smart updo did little to bolster my argument. He kept a suspicious eye on the doll, while my daughter and I leafed through the store catalog to select accessories we couldn’t possibly justify buying until her birthday two seasons from now.
Later that night, the doll’s chic chignon unraveled as my daughter snuggled with her, offering 108 reasons, plus tax, why the purchase was worth it.
My daughter hasn’t always been a huge fan of dolls. In fact, there has been quite a doll hiatus until a recent revival brought on by the stiletto-wearing monster brood that always seems suspiciously short of supply on the store shelves, a phenomenon that prompted me to write an email to Mattel, and whose answer is the stuff that future blogs are made of. Anyway, from baby dolls to monsters to all-American, equestrian-skilled dolls (the pony costs HOW MUCH?); we have had our share of doll drama, breakups, gum in the hair and unconditional love.
But what’s a good doll without a great doll mommy?
Fodder for the donation bin.
Playtime longevity and a great dose of memories make the doll mother’s mother (does this make me an American Granny? I smell marketing niche!) think twice before heading for the goodwill donation bin. Take Daryl, for instance. Daryl came to us fromGermany, when my mom brought this high-end, German engineered (hey, we don’t just make cars) pee-pee baby doll as a gift. My daughter instantly fell in love. Why she named her Daryl, I’ll likely never find out.
Anyway. Daryl. Yes. So Daryl was an instant hit. We gave it a bottle and watched it pee (notice the “we.” Am I the only one who plays with dolls? … Thought so.) We couldn’t leave well enough alone though and graduated to the cereal that came with it. My daughter and I mixed, poured and spoon-fed the doll; then we fed Daryl some more.
Nothing.
Um …
Wait.
Oh no…no #2!
After a week, my daughter shelved the constipated doll in lieu of a new toy flavor, and Daryl took a backseat in the “toy favorites” rollercoaster that’s typical of a two-year old: I love you! I’m done with you.
Two weeks later I finally met a new gross factor threshold. Realizing that the darn thing hadn’t pooped made my stomach turn. So, after putting my daughter to bed, I set out with a screwdriver to dismantle the expensive thing. I was at once in awe and appalled by the German-engineered pee-pee mechanism.
Tubes, levers and stoppers.
Wow!
Ugh …
… there’s the cereal.
I’ll spare you the details, in the off-chance that you might be enjoying a snack as you read this. What I saw was gross and elicited two thoughts:
Will Drano work?
Will my mom find out that I ruined the expensive doll my daughter so loved?
An ethical dilemma.
But this is America, and in customer service we trust. I explained my little situation to the American-based branch office. The company was great and recommended that I send in Daryl to be checked out.
Sure beat the Drano alternative.
Two weeks and a cover story about a doll hospital later, a new Daryl, complete with improved accessories, was shipped. Amazing!
Years later, a new doll era is temporarily upon us. While I realize that it’ll probably be short-lived, I do love the tiny fringe benefits that come with it, like slowing down for five minutes to style the doll’s hair before running out to the next thing … or simply being the first to point out New York’s skyline on the way to the doll store, which was all the more special since experiencing “firsts” is a bit harder to come by as my daughter get older.
