If you've been here a while, you probably remember the nightmare that was The American Girl Doll Christmas. The absolute only thing 4-year old Alexis wanted for Christmas was an American Girl Doll and the absolute last thing we wanted to do was to buy it. Sorry, but $100+ for a doll is STUPID. DUMB. IDIOTIC.
We did it. Begrudgingly.
Alexis thanked us by being really very MEH about the whole thing. To this day, that stupid Rebecca doll sits at the bottom of a mountain of neglected toys, the poster child for all that is wrong about those damn dolls. Her hair is ratty and her clothes are wrinkled. Last time I checked, her head was turned around backwards and she was missing her pants. Of course. I've tried to suggest that Rebecca deserves a new home a few times, but Alexis is very protective of that thing she doesn't care about. She wants it, but she has no interest in actually playing with it. Or looking at it. Or being in the same room that it's in.
Last year I decided that the best gift anyone could get me for Christmas was a punch in the face, so I suggested that my in-laws buy Alexis another American Girl doll. She had been continuing to swear she loved them and begging for more, so whatever. I figured it wasn't my money going to The Evil Company, but it was something she wanted, so it was a win-win.
Of course Alexis loved and continues to love that snotty Marie Grace. She drags her around everywhere, plays with her at least weekly, and whines if she can't find the dumb thing. Rebecca is the red-headed step child and Marie Grace is the prodigal daughter who sits high atop a golden pedestal.
That was supposed to be the end of our American Girl adventures. Two of them is plenty, especially since one hasn't gotten more than three minutes of play time in her entire life. But then there was that sale.
I can't look away from a sale. It causes actual physical pain.
There was exactly one morning in early December when Marie Grace and her friend Cecile were on sale for $50 each. FIFTY DOLLARS EACH! That's still stupid money for a doll, but it's half as stupid as regular price, so I decided to order three of them and figure out what I'd do with them later. FIFTY DOLLARS EACH.
Two of them went to Christmas Crazy because just thinking about a little girl in a domestic violence shelter waking up to an American Girl Doll under the tree made me all sorts of kerfluffly. The third one found its way under our tree. Begrudgingly.
I'll be damned if it wasn't Alexis' most favorite gift from us this year.
Poor, poor Rebecca.