Okay, so the other day I experienced something awesome. Yeah yeah yeah, I know you’re used to me spouting off alllllll the bad shit that happens in our house on a daily basis, but last week Zoey and I had a GMO (girls morning out) and holy crap did some amazing stuff happen.
I mean most Sunday mornings I’m like honey can you watch the kids and then I pretend to poop for like two hours while really I sit there reading People Magazine and getting ring around the tushy, but this Sunday Holden had a birthday party and I could either hang out in a crowded room with a bunch of tired dads while I beg my kiddo not to touch me with his nasty frosting fingers (can we pleeeeease make red frosting illegal???), or I could take Zoey for the morning. And even though I bitch and moan about both my kiddos, I picked Zoey because she never has pee-pee accidents anymore and she likes the quiet. Like seriously, yesterday in the car she asked me to turn off the music and I was like uhhh, okay, sure.
ME: What do you want to talk about?
ZOEY: Nothing. I like the quiet.
Be still my heart. I mean usually silence means someone’s in the other room spreading hummus all over my sofa or drawing a mural on my walls with a Sharpie, but silence in the car when the kids are locked in their car seats is like total bliss. Wait, what’s that I hear? It’s my own thoughts! And they’re not filled with curse words!!
Anyways, I think I just digressed like a whole F’ing novel. Back to Zoey and my incredible morning. So Zoey’s grandma did the most annoying thing ever for the holidays. She gave Zoey exactly what I asked her to give her. An American Girl Doll. Yes, if you read my blog, you might know how much I HATE American Girl Dolls, but here’s the thing. Zoey has one and every time her little friends come over to play, she’s like all freaking out and shit and hiding it because she only has one and she doesn’t want to share it. So when my mom asked me what Zoey wants for the holidays, I’m like I don’t give a rat’s ass what she wants. I want you to get her another one of those super expensivo dolls you got her so she’ll stop freaking out when her friends come over.
But here’s where my mom F’ed up. Instead of taking Zoey to the American Girl Doll store herself, she sent a check, so it was up to me to take her there. Kill. Me. Now.
Anyways, as we were getting in the car to schlep downtown, Zoey found a dime on the floor (and a nasty ass veggie straw that she ate). Yup, a whopping ten cents and she practically jizzed her pants.
ZOEY: Mom, LOOK!!! I’m going to spend it at the American Girl Doll store!!!
Bwahahahaha. Wait, I’m not done laughing. Bwhahahahaahahahha. You do that, honey. But since she’s only five and doesn’t really understand the whole money thing yet, she clenched that dime in her fist all day long planning to spend it on something special. And I’ll come back to the rest of the dime story later.
So as we were driving down to the city, we had the following conversation.
ME: Zoey, have you thought about what kind of doll you want?
ZOEY: I want the same one I got last time.
ME: Uhh, yeah, maybe we should get something a little different this time. You don’t want the EXACT same doll.
Even though I should have been fine with this choice because seriously, if my goal is to make her and her friends happy, having two of the same doll would stop them from beating the shit out of each other over who gets which doll. But I was an idiot and didn’t think about this at the time.
ZOEY: Well, I don’t want one with dark skin.
OMG, I think I just had a heart attack.
ME: Ummm, why?
Do I want to know why????
ZOEY: Because dark skin is icky.
OMG, OMG, OMG, I feel like someone just stabbed my heart with a knife. Seriously, I had to restrain myself from pulling over to the side of the road and beating her silly for that comment.
ME: Zoey, dark skin is NOT icky at all. That makes me so sad that you think that. Everyone is different and that’s what makes this world amazing.
ZOEY: Well, I didn’t mean that I don’t like it. I just don’t want a doll with dark skin.
ME: Honey, you can get whatever doll you want, but I just want to make sure you know that all skin colors are beautiful. Some of the most beautiful people in the world are black.
ZOEY: Mommmm, nobody’s black. They’re brown.
ME: But people call them black. Like you’re white.
ZOEY: Mommmm, I’m not white. I’m peach.
ME: Yeah, but you’re a white person.
ZOEY: Well, I’m gonna call myself a peach person.
ME: Whatever floats your boat, Zoey. But all skin colors are awesome.
Cut to us a half hour later walking into the American Girl Doll store. HOLE. E. SHIT. As if the prices aren’t scary enough, it looks like a bottle of Pepto Bismol threw up all over the place and a shitload of beady eyes are staring at me everywhere I look.
So we walked around and checked out allllllllll the choices. I mean yeah, some of them are cool with their histories, like one of them is supposed to be a news reporter and another one is a feminist, and they all seem like nice 18-inch role models, but mostly I was just like pick your doll so we can get outta here and go to the Lego Store and build something awesome. Because really Zoey plays with Legos a lot more than dolls and I’m totally hoping she’s an architect one day because that would be super cool.
ZOEY: I want that one.
She picked a nice fair red-headed doll.
ME: Yeah, okay. Let’s get her and then go to the Lego Store.
HELPER LADY: Can I hold that behind the register for you and you can get her on your way back?
Helllllls yeah, that would be awesome so I wouldn’t have to schlep around that GIANT box with us.
ME: Yes, please.
And then we went to the Lego Store for a while where my kid was a total badass and built this AMAZING people factory that makes human beings. See wayyyyyy better than a bazillion dollar doll.
And then we headed back to pick up little Miss Red-Headed Whitey Pants. Uhhh, I meanlittle Miss Red-Headed Peachy Pants.
ZOEY: Mom? I don’t think I want that doll anymore.
Please say you want Legos instead. Please say you want Legos instead.
ME: (hiding my excitement) Really?!!! What do you want? Maybe that kickass Millennium Falcon you can build out of Legos??!!!!
ZOEY: I want a different American Girl doll.
Awww shit, seriously? We spent like an hour here earlier and now we have to go look for a different doll?
ME: Okay, but we only have 14 minutes until the parking meter runs out so it has to be fast.
ZOEY: I know which one.
And she led me downstairs to the one she wanted.
Not blonde. Not red-headed. Not the one I would have guessed in a million years.
ZOEY: This one.
ME: (very skeptical) Are you sure?
ZOEY: I’m sure.
ME: And you’re definitely going to play with this one?
ME: You’re positive?
I had this fear that we were going to spend $120 on a doll and she would get home and decide she had made a mistake.
ME: You’re absolutely sure you want this one?
This adorable, leather-clad, moccasin-wearing, DARK-skinned Native American doll named Kaya.
ZOEY: Mommy, YES!
ME: Zoey. You. Are. Awesome.
I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs, “Yayyyyyyy, she picked the one with dark skin!!!!!!!” but I was pretty sure that wouldn’t sound right.
And then we left with her new kickass American Girl Doll.
The doll she has played with countless times since that day. The doll who is now best friends with the blonde doll we already had. The doll who she chose as the one and only toy she would schlep to Florida on vacation.
Oh wait, I almost forgot. The rest of the dime story! Yup, at the end of all this, she was still clenching her little dime in her fist as we left the store. I didn’t even remember she still had it until we saw a homeless man sitting outside the exit. Truth be told, I’ve talked to her about homeless people before, but we live in the lame-o burbs and I’m not sure she’s ever seen one.
ME: Zoey, why don’t you give him your dime?
And she didn’t bat an eye. She didn’t argue. She didn’t say she was saving it for something else. She walked right over and handed it to him.
OMG, I think my heart just exploded. In a good way!
Anyways, I don’t mean to be all annoyingly braggy and shit, and pleeeease don’t feel like we’re perfect because later that night she probably did something douchebaggy to piss me off and then I probably yelled at her, but at that moment I felt like shit was going my way, and that doesn’t happen all the time. But sometimes it does.
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