It is about that time of year where all of Lillian’s little friends are turning one, and so we are making our first rounds to birthday parties, an annual tradition that will probably stretch from mid-August to the end of October with lots of gifts and cake and toys.
Now, Lillian’s party is coming up, and we were very clear that she is not in need of anything. No clothes, no toys, nothing. She has more toys than she can play with and we only have to do her laundry every 3 weeks or so. This kid is totally set.
Last weekend we went to a birthday party for Lillian’s friend and she had a blast playing with all of the new toys, crawling around with the kids, rolling in the ball pit and being goofy. Wow! How fantastic! Lauren and I could not have been more pleased. She was enthralled with the baskets full of toys that were different from her own at home which was great because we honestly worry that she gets bored with some of our toys. I mean, wouldn’t you be bored by the same stuff.
So, Lillian is playing and playing and playing and we are having fun, drinking wine and chatting with the other moms… and then we look over and see… duh duh duh…
Lillian is crawling across the floor with a doll in each hand. A doll. D.O.L.L.
Now, it is not that I am anti-doll, or a crazy militant feminist, but Lauren and I have had exhaustive conversations about the importance of our house being an Disney-Princess-and-Barbie-Free-Zone. That is something that is incredibly important to us and our beliefs of what it means to raise a healthy, self-confident young lady. Sure, Lillian has been given a small handful of soft, fabric dolls in the past 11 months, most of which we have tossed into a pile of toys and she has never touched. Until recently.
Now all we hear is “babe, babe, babe” and she is obsessed with these things. She has two in particular that she just cannot bear to part with, no matter where she goes. Sure it is super cute to see her reach her sippy cup down to her doll to give it milk or offer it a bite of her graham cracker. Who wouldn’t smile at something like that. But really… of all the things she has… and of all the moms she has (we were BOTH women’s studies minors in college… at our all women’s college), she wants to play with dolls?!
I suppose the dolls could be worse. They are so unrealistic that besides their cross stitched eyes and sewn on hair, they barely resemble humans of any kind, but still… they are pink. and she is feeding them. When I saw her with the dolls at the party, I really must admit that a large portion of the oxygen in the room was sucked out like a vortex and I was totally speechless. Granted, they are not Barbies (which will absolutely NOT be allowed in our house) and they aren’t blankly waiting for their princes to come get them, but I just really thought we could thwart this whole doll thing and keep her enfatuated with her trucks and balls and books.