Posts Tagged ‘dolls’


This morning, in order to distract Baboo from the sad fact that his beloved Daddy was going upstairs to shower, I asked him where Baby Boy was. (And yes, I know. We really should give this doll a name, but it’s just not very high on the priority list.)

The baby was still standing at the gate making unhappy noises, so I inquired again where the doll was. Then I asked if perhaps he needed a fresh diaper.

Well, that did it. Baboo went over and got the doll, and we checked his diaper together. Then we did and undid his shirt several times, or rather I did his shirt several times and Baboo undid it, because while he is very good at opening the little Velcro fastening, he’s not very good at closing it. And he loves to open it.

Baby Boy gave Baboo a few thank-you hugs, which he responded to by cocking his head to the side and giggling, shoulders up by his ears.

This, my friends. This is what I live for. This is my wheelhouse.

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In a recent post I mentioned that Baboo had enjoyed playing with a baby doll at a neighbor’s house. A few days ago, I made good on my promise to let him pick out a doll for himself.

Here I will pause to link to a song I hope is no longer revolutionary: William Wants a Doll, from Marlo Thomas’ excellent TV special and children’s album, Free to be You and Me.

As it happens, there weren’t a ton of choices at Target. No boy dolls, for starters, and only a few options that looked like actual babies instead of Disney characters or anime princesses in physical form. There were, however, tons of “companion dolls,” whatever the hell that means, and accessories, because God forbid your dolly go out without her cell phone and matching purse.

Anyway. He seemed to gravitate toward a standard sort of doll, reaching out for her and smiling at her and so on. I stuck her in the front of the cart with him, and he continued to touch her face and babble at her as we finished shopping.

Once we got home, I took her out of her box and handed her to Baboo. He smiled at her, and then gave her to me. Over and over. And gave me her bottle, because true to her newborn form, she is always hungry.

A friend who is wise to the ways of babies and a doula said he’s doing this because he knows I’ll take care of her. Aw. How sweet. But how am I supposed to get anything done? I can get him to wave the bottle near her face occasionally, but he really, really wants me to hold her. Usually when I’m trying to get a round of bottles washed or do some food prep.

I’m hoping he’ll relax about her care needs now that she’s made at least one friend among the toys:


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I'm over 50. I'm raising a fifth grader. Sometimes he posts too.


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