Birthday Girl

“Am I still four today?” Libby asked me first thing this morning. I assured her that she WAS still four and that she would be for the next 364 days. That seemed to satisfy her. I’m not quite sure what she thought, though. Maybe when I have my birthday later this week, I’ll only have to be thirty-seven for a day, and then I can revert back to being thirty six for another year? I might like the logic of the newly four year old.

She had a great birthday yesterday with a par-tay in the park, her Daisy Duck cake, of course (yes, I’m leaving that dang picture up), snacks, presents, bubbles and a ‘Pin the Tail on Daisy' game, where I suspected the blindfold mask was a bit faulty when the first four children all stacked their ‘tails’ directly on top of one another. Hmmm…. We added a ‘spin’ for good measure, and the game was on!

Last night for dinner, we took her to her favorite restaurant, Mama Fu’s, where she got her usual teriyaki chicken and white rice which she loves to douse in soy sauce. When we got home, she opened her ‘big gift’ from us, which was a… are you ready for this?… a ‘Baby Alive Learns to Potty’. I’m not kidding. Or as Philip was calling it when we were shopping… ‘Little Baby Sh*ts Herself’.

Libby was soooo excited. She promptly named it ‘Emily’ and wanted to give her a bottle. Cute, right?

Now if the title is not enough to explain what it is, it’s a doll that ‘eats’ and ‘drinks’ and then…yep, pees and poops. Hopefully in the little potty chair that came with it in the box. More likely in the diaper that the doll is wearing. And she has a plethora of little phrases that she says when you push the button on her bracelet, a couple of the most memorable being, ‘Oooh… tinkle, tinkle!’ and ‘Uh-oh, I made a stinky!’ Think I’m joking?! I wish I were.

Had I known what was involved with this doll, it would have stayed on the shelf at Wal-Mart. Did you know that each time you feed the doll, you have to completely rinse her when you’re finished? But here’s the kicker… she’s not a tub toy. It specifically says that in the instructions. You just have to ‘flush her system’ with water to remove all the traces of ‘food’. Little did I know that I was going to be spending my late thirties giving doll enemas.

Let’s just hope Santa doesn’t bring the other doll she’s asking for... ‘Baby Alive has Smallpox’.