Lucy woke up with a snuffly head. She said she wasn't feeling well, and recommended that she stay home from school. I was on the fence as to the severity of her illness, but in these days of The Pig Death, you never know.....so I kept her home to prevent potential pestilence spreading. In an attempt to keep her from jumping around the house while simultaneously sneaking in some number practice, I came up with a plan to make glittery flashcards. In spite of my strong feelings about glitter, it worked out pretty well. She told me which numbers to write, then she applied glue and glitter. We really had a good time. We got in some chatting too. I now understand her obsession with the Baby Alive Whoopsie Doo doll that Santa failed to bring. She has been talking about it and saving up her chore money for almost a month now. Each basket of folded clean laundry she puts away in the wrong drawers gets her 50 cents closer to her dream toy.
According to the description on the Hasbro Toys website; 'Playing mommy is more fun than ever with this Baby Alive doll that "eats" and "poops" just like a real baby!' Well, having had a real baby that eats and poops, I do not get it. But then adult people dress up in the style of the Renaissance with the desire to go back to a time before indoor plumbing, refrigeration, and drive through coffee. Apparently, romanticizing of the icky goes on into adulthood for some. Lucy is really excited about the pooping part.
I asked her what kinds of activities she had planned for my future plastic grandchild. Oh the plans! She will be taking Baby Alive Whoopsie Doo for walks in her stroller, she will be taking Baby Alive Whoopsie Doo to her friend Rowan's house, she even described a trip to the beach with the little tyke. I asked her if she would be taking Baby Alive Whoopsie Doo to school, or would she have to arrange for childcare. I was kidding, but Lucy had already thought that one out. I will be in charge of Baby Alive Whoopsie Doo while Lucy is at school. Lucy is certain that her baby would poop while being stored in her locker. This might interfere with her study of the days of the week. Poor dear, she is already having to wrestle with the family/career conundrum. I hope she knows that I will be expecting 10 bucks an hour and health insurance. What? Granny's gotta get her bingo money somewhere.
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