Thursday, December 8, 2016The Undead Cabbage Patch
The doll. It's still a thing.
Mila says its name is "Baby" and don't you dare try to convince that something different might be better because she will tear your soul out of your body, stomp on it, and then set it on fire.
She's POSITIVE its name is "Baby."
Mila is also positive that its the best baby ever and should be taken absolutely everywhere. There are some grocery store shoppers who super disagreed, but the only way to stop the madness is to make Mila mad. So.
NOT IT.
You do it. I'm not.
Mila takes Baby to the store. Mila takes Baby to bed. Mila takes Baby EVERYWHERE. It's fine, though. It's not like any of us are bothered by the eyes that double as hell mouths or the fact that the thing talks constantly.
Did I not mention that it makes noise? Oh, it makes noise. It endlessly asks for a baba, demands that you change its diaper, and burps. It's nearly as persistent as its Tiny Human mom. Weirdly, though, the noises don't bother me.
They eyes, on the other hand. They bother me. Still. Always.
So Mila has been taking her doll with her everywhere. It's sort of sweet, just as long as I can't see its eyes glaring at me. The other night, Mila forgot to grab Baby before going to bed, so I was ordered to go back downstairs and get her. Which, fine. I ran back down the stairs to get Baby.
On my way up, I stumbled on the stairs. It was just a little stumble, but it was that sort of awkward stumble where you have to pick whether you're going to fall down a flight of stairs or drop what you're holding so you can catch yourself.
I chose correctly.
Baby landed on her head.
Baby landed on her head and promptly let out the saddest, creepiest sound I have ever heard. It was the sound you'd expect a puppy to make if it walked too close to a hell mouth and found itself living the last millisecond of its pitiful life.
It was the sound of death. The sound of doll death.
The Tiny Human was by then very desperate for the return of Baby, so I played it off. "Baby is sleeping!" I said as I handed it over. There was a bit of fussing, but in the end Mila went along with the whole "Baby is sleeping" game.
The second Mila was sleeping, I knew I needed to get to work. I had to resurrect that doll before Mila found out I had killed her.
I tried new batteries. I tried flipping the batteries and then flipping them again. I fussed with the power box. NOTHING WORKED.
Baby was dead.
I didn't want Mila to wake up to a dead Baby, so I left it on the kitchen counter. I figured I would battle my way through the morning and then promptly run to the store to exchange the brand new doll for a brand newer doll.
Hours later, as Mila readied to join the day, I braced for battle. I knew it would be a matter of minutes before Mila asked where Baby was and I needed to be prepared to explain that Baby was tired. So tired. The doll was all of the sleepy and would be sleeping until it was so late in the day. Zzzzzz.
And then Mila asked where Baby was. I followed my plan perfectly, handing over the doll while talking about how tired it was.
The second Mila was holding it, the damn thing woke up and started talking. Its bright flashlight eyes cut through the morning sun and grabbed my heart, fiercely squeezing it as the damn doll proved that it is out to get me.
It's possessed. That's the only possible explanation.
Some Investment Advice
This is that moment when I remind you that Christmas Crazy is still a thing. I would super like to deliver a really giant pile of toys to Center for Victims, so go here or here and help, please!
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If you happen to be having the kind of year where you have a few dollars to invest in the stock market, I have an idea for you.
Chapstick. You should invest in Chapstick.
It's not that we are wild and crazy users of Chapstick, except that, well, Mila. Mila is a wild and crazy Chapstick user. Any time the kid comes across a happy little tube of Chapstick, she slathers it all over her entire face. I mean, it's cool. You just never know when you might end up with chapped eyebrows. She's preventing that nightmare.
The good news is that it's only Chapstick. I don't keep lipstick or anything like that in my purse or anywhere else that Mila might find it.
But Alexis does.
That right there is an entire tube of lipgloss. It's quite lovely, really, and only I can take the blame for it because that hot mess happened on my watch. Alexis could get better about leaving her stuff where Tiny can find it, but maybe I should see that Tiny has found restricted items before she gets that far with them.
So that happened Saturday morning. Mila found a tube of lube gloss, turned herself into a clown, and life went on. Life went on all the way up until Alexis asked if I had seen her pink lip gloss and WELP. I DID SEE IT. I told Alexis she could see it too, if she checked Instagram.
Alexis was mad. Still, whatever, Don't leave things out, kid.
Fast forward a few hours. A few hours later, I was doing a better job of paying attention. I was paying such close attention that I noticed Mila had gotten her hands on contraband AGAIN. It was early in the face slathering when I asked Alexis how many tubes of lip gloss she was planning to lose to her sister in one day.
Alexis immediately rolled her eyes at me. It was as if she didn't care about the lip gloss Mila was using to give herself stripes.
Because she didn't.
"That's glitter glue, mom," she replied.
It was glitter glue. Mila coated her face in lovely purple glitter glue.
I'm just going to go ahead and tape a tube of Chapstick to Mila's hand. She'll alwas be prepared to slather up her face, but maybe we can stop with slathering her face with glitter glue.
