December 13, 2011
Meet Julie, the doll my almost nine year-old daughter found on the Internet last week.
"I saw her at Walmart the other day!" I exclaimed when she showed me a picture of the doll.
"I want a real one," she warned. "Not a fake."
I know what it's like to covet something trendy and expensive. When I was in middle school, I wanted a pair of Guess jeans so bad that I would have sold my soul to the Devil. Fortunately, it didn't come to that. My mom knew of a shop in the back streets of Tijuana, Mexico that sold authentic Guess jeans for $15 cash.
For that same amount today, I could buy approximately half of one of Julie's outfits.
"What' your point?" she snapped.
I've been riding the decision making see-saw for the past several days. On one hand, it makes me nauseous to spend so much money for a doll that doesn't excrete gold pellets from its rectum. On the other hand, I'm grateful that the object of my daughter's desire is a doll. It could be much worse, I know.
"Just order it," my husband told me in exasperation this morning.
I felt every bit the proud and indulgent parent for about 15 minutes.
That's when my daughter marched in my room and handed me a revised Christmas list.
"I don't see Julie," I said nervously.
Camber yawned and rolled her eyes. "Dolls are for babies," she replied. "I want to get my ears pierced instead."
As you can imagine, I'm in a pretty good mood right now.