The other day, the children and I were walking into Office Max to get some fliers printed for Mile High Mamas. Or was it Office Depot? I am continually getting the two mixed up and went so far as to go to the wrong store last week. I blame my mistake on their close proximity to each other and their inability to have an original thought that does not include the world “office.”
Nevermind my blonde hair.
Anyway, we were on the sidewalk of one of the Offices when an SUV of two cute old ladies pulled up.
“Excuse me, dearie!” they beckoned.
Figuring they must need directions, we sauntered over there. “Yes?”
“How old is your daughter?” they asked, pointing to Hadley.
“Almost four.”
I saw them rustling ecstatically around in the car. They then produced two brand-new stuffed toys and shoved them my way. They smiled sweetly and I ascertained they were were the Givin’ Grandmas and drove around trying to help the less fortunate. Until the woman in the passenger seat offered,
“Mildred has been trying to get rid of these for ages!”
Confused, I gave them a blank stare.
“She wins them at the slots, you know. And just doesn’t have any grandkids she can pawn them off on.”
Or more like Gambling Grandmas.
I stifled a laugh, thanked them graciously and then tried to ditch them at the adjacent pet store. You know, one of those big chains that is original enough to have “Pet” in the name. They would have nothing to do with them, which is when I really started analyzing our gifts and made the horrible realization:
And disturbingly enough, some recently-acquired dolls are carbon copies of their owners.
Frighteningly enough, they even got the “Where the Wild Things Are” tag correct. Did I mention my childhood nickname was “Animal?”….
So, what kind of doll are you!!?