I was never much of a doll sort of girl. Of course, I had a small collection of Cabbage Patch Kids, but I also popped the limbs off any Barbies my parents would dare dangle in front of me.
I’m not sure what I did with these Cabbage Patch Kids, however, as I distinctly remember never having a maternal bone in my body until I had flesh and blood children of my own. In fact, it took at least a few days after the birth of my first child for the beginnings of a maternal nubbin to form. It’s safe to say, I never thought I would be a mother until it happened.
Abby has two soft pink baby dolls. One given as a Christmas present by her grandparents, the other bought on a clearance rack last week when she seemed drawn to it. I didn’t expect much when we brought them home, this is a girl used to playing with her brother’s trucks and light sabers, but she has since started pushing them around in her pink shopping cart. Side by side, in pink sleeper outfits.
Pink pink pink. I never thought we’d have so much pink, either.
The other day, she began to brush the bald head on one of these dolls as gently as an 18 month old can. Taking her seat on the floor in front of me, her toddler legs elbowed forth, she brushed contently. When she was done brushing, she held the doll close and covered it in kisses. She then handed her doll out for me to kiss.
Which goes to show how she’s already more maternal and sweet than I ever was as a kid. Though we’ll fail to mention how Abby tried to bite the doll’s head afterward. Or how she tried to suffocate it by sitting on it. We definitely won’t talk about how she catapulted it across the room once she was finally bored of it. Come to think of it, maybe maternal and sweet aren’t quite the right words. At least she hasn’t ripped off their limbs. Yet.