Finally missed a few days of blogging, courtesy of the FRANTIC SEARCH FOR K’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT (oh yes, it comes out just like that in my head: bold and all caps, only louder). I feel as though K often gets shafted because she loves her brother’s toys so much that we hardly get her anything new, so it’s especially important to me to find K something special.
Enter the doll.
K loves the fakey cheap baby doll that we bought M in prep for her birth. Absolutely loves it. Carries it around, puts it to bed, offers it up for hugs and kisses from others. Baby even cries if we are away from the house for too long. Apparently baby gets lonely and scared. But plastic doll faces give me the willies. So I got it in me that we should get her an actual doll, Waldorf-style, that’s soft and cuddly but ready to be a friend instead of just an object for which she cares. Only do you know how much Waldorf dolls cost? I mean, seriously–they’re just fabric and wool!
And also, have I mentioned that I’m cheap? Very cheap?
So I won’t buy the beautiful Waldorf doll. I’ll just make one. I download templates. I buy fabric. I realize I need more guidance. I buy a pattern. But this is more a baby doll, and not a real doll. Besides, I have no idea what dart and baste mean. And I’m not exactly rolling in free time.
It’s back to the store again, this time making the rounds of slightly nicer places in search of a nice, soft, non-Waldorf but still not plastic friend. And we find one! Eureka! We pull K over, ecstatic, and introduce her to this lovable companion. Which she hugs sweetly. Then hands back with the instruction, “Up,” as in “Put back UP on the shelf.”
“No, no,” I insist, handing the doll back, “she can be your new friend. Don’t you just love her?”
“Noooo,” says K, shaking her head and pushing the doll back. “UP.”
We go through this a few more times. Really. I’m can be kind of dense. Exasperated and confused, we are about to leave the store when I think to try one more thing. After searching around, I find what I’m looking for: another plastic face baby. And when I offer this one:
“Baby! Baay–beee!” K squeezes baby tight, tucks her under her little arm, and toddles toward the door.
So back to square one. Which means I guess I’m going to learn what dart and baste mean after all. Lucky me!