I never did like dolls growing up, or Barbies either.  I TRIED to like them; I just could never get into them.  My little one likes dolls but loves stuffed toy animals, just as I did.  She also likes cars.  Ironically, my when my husband was young he played with his cousin’s doll house because he liked the miniature models.  He will still stop and examine any model he sees:  whether it’s a building going up, a battlefield of some sort, or a replica of anything historical.  Anyway, our little one asked for a doll for Christmas — that pooped.  Her daddy and I thought that was too disgusting.  And then I found this sweet, precious little thing.  It was the same brand our baby doll wanted only all this one could do was suck her thumb.  My heart constricted when I saw her.  Something about the mostly no hair and enormous eyes reminded me instantly of when my baby was a baby.  I cradled her in my arms through the box and even found a kitten for her on the way out.  When my husband saw her he melted immediately.  “It looks just like her when she was a tiny little baby!” he exclaimed and actually took the doll from me.  We were both lost in our own thoughts … five years whirling before our eyes.  “It’s kind of heartbreaking, isn’t it?” I asked and he just nodded.  When our little one got her on Christmas day she loved her and her doll’s kitten.  She named her Rose and said she was going to have a little girl just like her with the same name when she grew up.  Yet another Marian connection my child has unwittingly made.  I have noticed as other toys litter the house my husband and I have kept an eye on her.  She is never discarded, upside down, or on the floor.  It’s so silly for two grown adults to love a doll.  And yet, we do.  I keep thinking of one of my favorite Bette Midler songs:

         “Baby Mine”

Baby mine, don’t you cry.
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
Never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,
Pay no heed what they say.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
Never a tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,
They’d end up loving you too.
All those same people who scold you,
What they’d give just for the right to hold you.

From your head down to your toes,
You’re not much, goodness knows.
But, you’re so precious to me,
Sweet as can be, baby of mine.

I was working at a client’s house tonight when I noticed this kitchen towel.  It was so timely it made me laugh.  I don’t know of any parent who wants their child to misbehave, particularly in public.  People without kids can be very judgy and regardless, anything the parent does becomes fodder for public scrutiny.  We were going to the movies earlier when my little one came running up to me in the mall.  Her face was a varied shade of reddish/purple, she had been crying, and now she was just hollering.  Have you ever heard the acoustics in a mall??  It’s why I used to love to sing there.  At two, tantrums are sometimes unavoidable; at five I say no way.  In the ’70’s my father would have just started spanking.  I remember once being spanked all the way down the escalator in the mall when I was just about my little one’s age.  I can still feel the humiliation to this day.  Meanwhile my current humiliation was my only child jumping up and down as we approached, ironically, the escalator.  “I WANT A BALLOON!  I WANT A BALLOON!” she chanted as her light up shoes blinked blindingly in time with her rhythmic demands.  Her father and I met eyes over her head.  I was horrified and he looked harried.  “I told her to ask you,” my poor beloved said.  “Absolutely not,” I replied.  “We are about to see a movie that cost a lot of money and then we are going out to eat.  That is enough.”  All this was being played out in front of the ticket taker which only added to my embarrassment.  More hopping and screaming ensued.  “Now listen!” I heard someone from behind me quietly say.  “Your parents are here, trying to take you to a nice movie!  You ought to be grateful; instead you’re acting like a spoiled brat!  You should tell your parents ‘thank you’ instead of demanding a balloon.”  I turned around and it was the young woman who was working to take the tickets.  I turned back to see my little one’s tears instantly dissolve, only to be replaced with a stunned look of shock which spread across her now white face.  “Can you tell her, ‘Yes ma’am?'” I asked and she immediately said it.  Then I turned once again to the woman and hugged her.  Maybe under a different circumstance I would have taken her head off.  But somehow I just knew she was speaking from the heart and with experience.  Only people who have struggled would have worded it the way she did and I recognized it instantly.  We rarely got to go to the movies EVER while I was growing up.  Plus her daddy dropped an obscene $12 for her to have a balloon animal the last time we went.  Treats should not be regular occurrences.  I thanked the young woman and she said sometimes it just took hearing it from someone else.  Then, as I suspected, she revealed she had children of her own.  I do not know if I would have been able to say what she did to someone whom I did not know, particularly at her age, but I admired her for it and was grateful nonetheless.  The same mortification I felt all those years ago going down the escalator I think my little one felt going up it.  I wonder if this was one of those times that will remain in her memory as she goes through life.  I love this quote by the American motivational author and speaker Zig Ziglar who said, “Your attitude, not your aptitude, will determine your altitude.”  My little one went from focusing on a negative (not having the balloon and how “deprived” she was) to seeing the positives (like going to the movies and being together as a family.)  Meanwhile, my beloved and I decided to get doubles at the bar which we were able to bring into the theater.  After all, everyone’s entitled to an occasional meltdown.