My life with my newest addition, our American Girl Doll.
I have four kids. Three by choice, one by complete surprise. On Christmas morning my third daughter arrived. She came wrapped in red and gently covered in a plastic rectangular box with the words American Girl Doll printed in white.
We couldn’t go with her original name, that would be too normal. We named her Elizabeth. For three days she proudly kept that title, until after a viewing of “Barbie in a Nutcracker” when she was renamed Clara. Clara’s hair was perfect. Her eyes, a beautiful blue. Her smile, sweet yet sarcastic. Clara knew what I was in for, and I believe she was preparing me with her grin.
From that moment on, our American Girl Doll became an active member of our family. A little too active. It happened in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, I was setting a placemat for her, getting her ready for bed, dressing her for soccer, arranging playdates, and bathing her. When I went to Target it was a constant battle to get out of the toy section alive. We just HAD to pick her up outfits, underwear, and even a pony. Yes, a pony. Her list of requests got more intense with each passing day.
I did an inventory of her accessories and practically fainted. Clara is the proud owner of a pony, six outfits (including a bathing suit), a bathtub, a soccer ball, a Hawaiian skirt, four bows, two pairs of shoes, a purse, a bed, two bottles of nail polish, a hair salon set complete with hair dryer, and finally, an I-pod.
I’m knee-deep in American Girl Doll land. Drowning in a sea of mini luxuries. I’m starting to think seriously about a boarding school for Clara, but I believe that would break my first daughters heart. They have become quite attached. In fact, Sutton (our first-born) believes she is Clara’s mom. Clearly this is not the case as I’m the one who does Clara’s hair, arranges her wardrobe changes, and puts her pony in its stable each night.
Sutton once came rushing into my room in the middle of the night claiming Clara was sick and wanted her “Mimi”. Her what? Apparently, these two found it cute to refer to me as this dolls grandmother. At the age of 32, I find little humor in this title. So, there I was staring at my two girls wondering which one was in more trouble.
Whoever invented this world of braces, pets, ballet recitals, movie tickets, sleep overs, dog sleds (I’m not joking), crutches, and holiday dresses for dolls is a genius and most likely a millionaire. Seriously, my hat goes off to you. Hook, line, and sinker. We took the bait big time in our house.
My four children are doing fine. We have all adjusted to the newest addition and are learning to live with her drama. I’m throwing a joint birthday party for Clara and Sutton this year. Yes, Sutton requested an American Girl Doll birthday party. Well, at least I’m not throwing the party JUST for Clara, but she hasn’t been with us that long, and I’m not sure what next year will bring. I do know this, if a rectangular box arrives under the tree this year, it will remain wrapped. Sorry Santa, but I can’t afford another kid!