Barbie, my old friend, welcome home. I've missed you these long years. Your flowing blonde hair, your stylish ensembles, your diverse career goals, I couldn't be happier to introduce you to my daughter.
Barbie was welcomed into our home this past Sunday. Granny brought Barbie over, and she came accompanied by a younger friend, a toilet, and a sink. She comes prepared, that's Barbie. Maggie was a little leery of her at first, but last night she let Barbie sleep with her and they've been inseparable ever since.
Barbie is the "Mommy" and the little girl doll that came with is the "Baby". The Mommy and the Baby have to hold Maggie's hands when they walk around the house. They have to scoot on their bottoms to get down the stairs. They need to sit nicely at the pillows and listen to bedtime stories, and they even need to be tucked in up to their shoulders with their heads on the pillow to go to bed with Maggie.
I'm so glad Barbie has stood the test of time. Say what you want about her, but I have very fond memories of imaginative play: Barbie houses, Barbie doctor, Barbie hairdresser, Barbie fashion designer, Barbie vet. If Barbie can help Maggie use her imagination they way she helped me, then Barbie can set up shop and stay with us as long as she wants - toilet and all.
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