Twisted Christmas Memories, Part 2

Do you remember these?


When I was little, they were super big.  Everyone wanted one.  My best friend got a black one.  At the time, I assumed it was because the white ones were sold out like the spoiled, rotten, terrible child I was.  Turns out, she wanted a black one cause she thought they were cuter.  She may not have been wrong.  Honestly, Cabbage Patch Kids are pretty ugly.  Though, bravo to them for being the ONE doll that covers all the nationalities.  (I have an Asian niece, and we searched high and low for a baby doll for her.  Eventually, my mom bought a beautiful Asian doll online for a stupid amount of money so sweet niece could have a baby with the same hair.  It’s the hair that’s important.)


At first, I got a fake Cabbage Patch Doll.  Maybe for a birthday.  It cried, it was even more ugly than the real ones, it was a BOY (blech), and I knew it wasn’t a real cabbage patch doll.  Some neighborhood woman was making knock-offs cause they were stupidly expensive at the time. (Mormons, I tell ya.  Their moms are crafty, and their kids are as evil as everyone else’s.)


Later, though, the Cabbage Patch Dolls either dropped in price or my parents were making more money.  For me, it was an amazing Christmas.  It was one where a relative was living in town.  She was single, had a pack of kids, and my parents provided Christmas for them.  My mom took us shopping, bought the stuff for the relatives, and while we were there, I fell in lurrrrve with a set of Cabbage Patch Doll Twins.  My mom, being the brilliant woman she was, took note.

In my little girl head, those twins were already mine.  I loved them.  I needed them.  They wanted to come home with me like Woody needs to be with Andy.  (I still have them.  It’s possible I still love them.  That maybe I would cry if they were lost.)  My sister fell in love with the cowboy(girl?) Cabbage Patch Doll with a horse.

On Christmas morning, miracle of miracles, my twins were there.  The same ones, in green velvety clothes, blonde hair, a boy and girl.  Just what a mother could want.

My sister, of course, got her cowboy(girl?), and the horse.  But in the tallying of her little mind, I got two dolls, and she got one.




Enter the tears.  I can only imagine how devastating it was for my mom to see her baby bawling because I got two dolls and bratface only got a doll and a horse.




First world problems.

Sure you have plenty of food, clean water, a beautiful home.  But, avoiding tears on Christmas Day as your children tally who got what and if its fair.  The stress of many a parent’s life.  Thankfully my foster-tots are too small to add or count.  Maybe I should attach receipts in the future?


Karmically, poor Em has set herself up to be the one who still cries while angelic me is spoiled extra.  Also my parents feel sorry for me cause I’m single.


Tee hee.



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