I overheard Fiddledaddy talking on the phone to his younger brother the other day. His younger brother lives in a house heavily laden with estrogen as well.
Fiddledaddy: “So, Emme is all into this American Girl business.”
(I am able to report the other side of the conversation because I’m telepathic. And had recently cleared the waxy buildup from my ears.)
YB (younger brother): What are you talking about? I have no idea what this American Girl business is.”
Fiddledaddy: “You will, dude. You will.”
YB often looks to Fiddledaddy to be better prepared for whatever the latest little girl phenomenon is that will threaten his very existence. He was forewarned of the invasion of the Polly Pockets and all their itty bitty shoes and accessories. But no amount of sufficient warning can prepare you for that.
Unless you’ve been living in a cave, you know that the American Girl Doll broo-haha has been around awhile, and is not going away any time soon. The American Girl doll stands 18 inches tall, is bedecked in either colonial type clothing, or her attire can be custom ordered to match your little darling’s outfit. There are books, movies, games, paper dolls, a magazine, and much much more.
And wait! She can be yours for only $95.00. And up.
SUCH A STEAL!
A couple of years ago, we snagged a couple of 18 inch knockoffs on the Wal Mart clearance aisle for only $7.00 each. And we managed to pass them off to our girls as American Girl dolls. Until Emme’s grandmother started giving her the American Girl catalogue.
After careful scrutiny, it was noted that the Seven dollar knockoff paled in comparison to the grandeur of the pinnacle of American Girl dollism. I’m speaking of course, of Felicity.
Emme has calculated that if she saves her allowance, she should be able to purchase Felicity in the year 2012. In other words, she’ll probably have died a slow and painful death of old age by then.
(Not to worry, girls, I am watching e-bay like a hawk. I’ve got Emme’s back covered. But, it is kind of nice watching her go the extra mile to do chores that will net her a nickel or two. Because I’m not stupid. I can make this work to my advantage.)
Emme has gotten creative in her endeavor to attain the entire American Girl collection. She has taken a number of catalogues, and painstakingly cut out each advertised doll. She as amassed approximately 73 1/2 such paper dolls.
I say 1/2, because the younger brother finds it sporting to run over the thin paper dolls, (after the sister has carefully laid them all out across the entire family room floor), using his hot pink radio controlled Barbie Jeep. Which has been spotted driven by a headless Barbie.
I’m just thinking out loud here, but I have brilliantly assessed that the drive-thru ATM machine I frequent, which has instructions posted in braille, was erected for headless Barbie. In a hot pink radio controlled jeep. Am I wrong?
Somebody is certainly making a lot of money from all this American Girl business. And who am I to slap free enterprise in the proverbial face?
I have a whole list of chores prepared for my young daughter. And if I plan it right, she’ll be earning herself a Felicity doll at just about the time I’m packing her to head off to college.
Free enterprise has nothing on me.