little conniver


Dramatic production put on in our living room last night: She brought all her American Girl dolls downstairs, patted all their little backs, rocked them, sang to them, and put them in a chair to watch TV. Why? She needs Marisol, the new American Girl doll. She borrowed a catalog from a friend at school yesterday. We weren’t even out of the car line before she was shoving Marisol in my face. LOOK! Marisol! She’s only available in 2005! (It’s only March, I pointed out, and it’s past your birthday and nowhere near Christmas.) I can get her for spring! she said. What? We are now getting spring gifts? (Where’s mine?) Easter! she came up with. Sigh. She is difficult to resist, especially since I happen to love American Girl dolls, too. I pointed out that I hadn’t seen her play with her dolls lately. No sooner did we arrive home than the production of doll-mothering began.

hardtoresist (15k image)

I have no idea where she picked up her evil ways.

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