Caution: baby-doll horror story ahead!
Y'all. My sister called me today with a Story. (You think I'm the only one in the family with crazy stories, but that is Not So. Not So, But Far Otherwise.)
Sister is Pixie's mom, my little niece who is nearly 2. Pixie (not her real name) has had this crazy--ugly dolly forever that is a soft-bodied doll with a "lifelike" head - you know, the creepy baby dollies that every little girl has to carry around with her. It's called Baby. It has sausage-shaped stuffed legs and a "bodysuit" which is really her body. But most of all, thick, creepy, rubbery fake skin on her head and hands.
Baby got newsprint on her fake-creepy skin when daddy laid her on the newspaper one day. Baby had part of the Miami Herald just over her left ear, a tattoo of Today's News. (Good thing it wasn't an obituary.)
Baby got a hole in the back of her head when she got shoved under the couch one day. Just a tear in the skin, but these things have a way of getting worse.
About two weeks ago, Pixie walked in holding Baby by putting her fingers through the hole in her skin. My sister got a little freaked out about her possibly ripping off the skin and swallowing it, so she decided to have a Baby Operation and just take the skin off.
Having absolutely NO IDEA what it would look like, she peeled and peeled. Pixie watched her, and (understandably) freaked out when her precious Baby began to look even crazier and frightening. Unfortunately those fellas at the Acme Toy Company just went ahead and put a horror-monster baby in there under all the fake plastic skin. Baby's plastic skeleton didn't look all that different from our real ones. Pixie yelled "EYES! EYES MAMA! EYES!" and she went into unconsolable hysterics, just as you would if your dear mother pulled the skin off your darling baby doll's head. (Why she did not wait until Pix went for a nap I'll never know, but she swears she thought it would be just fine under there.) And obviously, Pixie has no idea that it's just a doll, to her it's a real live baby, and her mother just did something terrible to it.
My sister put it in a closet under a blanket hoping she'd forget about it, like you do. (Dear sister: Why the heck didn't you toss the doll in the trash?) Pixie occasionally walked over to the bump underneath the blanket in her closet and yelled "EYES! EYESSSSS MAMA!"
She was clearly not forgetting. Fearing for her child's eventual sanity and imagining the bills she might one day face when Pixie got to her twenties and had to go to counseling because of the Great Baby Doll Skinning of 07, my sister got the baby out of the closet (Pixie grabbed her and wouldn't let go, and kept looking at my sister like "How could you DO THIS?"), wrenched her away with a promise that Baby was going to the hospital to get fixed, and drove like hell to the Toys R Us two towns over for a replacement. Armed with a trash bag and a pair of scissors, my sister marched in and bought a new doll. The kind ladies at the store were not overly judgmental of my sister when she showed them what she had done to Baby, got the new doll out of her box, took the clothes off Baby and put them on her replacement. She folded up the new clothes, put Baby into the trash bag, tied it up, grabbed New Baby, and drove like hell back home, hoping that Pixie would accept the almost-identical replacement.
When PIxie woke up from her nap, her eyes lit right up at her new Baby. She listened all wideeyed as her mama told her the Baby got fixed and got a new outfit at the hospital, and wanted to put on Baby's new clothes. (We are clearly horrible people, but you'd probably do it too.) All afternoon she's been playing with her new Baby, occasionally stopping to hold her at arms-length, during which she appears to admire her new skin, then give her a big hug.
Well, you would too, if your mama made your Baby look like this.
I have already laughed until I cried several times today, and believe I have come up with a Life Lesson for my sister: The next time this happens, do not skin the doll. Go directly to Toys R Us, and save yourself the grief.
My 11-year old nephew, Pixie's big brother, wanted to keep the doll for himself. (Clearly why my sister thought taking the skin off would be okay in the first place.)
ETA: This really is
how Southerners give directions. I can't do the regular kind anymore. Here
is the associated story.
Labels: crazy, things to remember