I am filling out a hospital admission form right now.
Oh, no! I can hear you crying. What’s wrong? Who’s hurt? Poor EBM!
I’m filling out a hospital admission form for a DOLL.
That’s right, I’m sending Bitty Baby to the American Girl Doll Hospital. She needs a new body (torso and limbs) for $19.00, plus $6.95 shipping and handling.
I can’t believe it either.
After forking over $50 for Bitty Baby a couple years back, her little leg has come un-stitched. When I inquired about how to stitch the leg back on, I was informed by the American Girl
monopoly company that leg stitching is not feasible. They will need to replace the torso and limbs.
I’m frightened. Truly frightened.
Not that Bitty Baby broke, but that Bitty Baby is a gateway drug that I willingly gave to my daughter. You see, all of this Bitty Baby love is what led to my daughter’s fascination with American Girl dolls, which led me to fork over $100 for a doll she named “Sparkle” last December plus the world’s most painful hunt for an ice skating outfit that a few of you around here may remember.
And here I am getting ready to send Bitty Baby in a box with a check to the doll hospital to get fixed.
What’s next? Bitty Baby checks into rehab in a couple years for her addiction to huffing smelly markers? Thing is, I would probably download the proper form and send Bitty Baby to rehab just to make my daughter happy.
What thing do you do for the love of your kids or grandkids that makes you certifiably insane in the eyes of the world?!