I loved Barbie. I still have to think twice when I see a special edition Barbie. I think the last Barbie I got was "That Girl" several years ago, except for the Elvis and Priscilla I got for Mom last year. When I was little, Christmases were full of dolls and all the accessories. However, there was a Christmas where I wound up with some race cars. One was a race car set that had a black with gold firebird Trans-Am and a white with red Trans Am. It was a Tyco Daredevil Jump with little glowing barrels. I also got a remote controlled black with gold Trans-Am. I did like black with gold Trans-Ams but probably not as enthusiastically as a boy. Barbie wouldn't fit in those cars.
You may think, "That's kind of impressive and progressive, a father wanting his daughter to have both stereotypically boy and girl toys." Bless his heart, I don't think my dad thought that much about those sorts of things. Rather, he might have had other motivations. For example, I would long tire of racing Dad on the track and would drift over to my dolls. There would sit my dad, a race trigger in each hand, with the occasional, "Ah man!" as one of the cars flipped off the track. Then, he'd be off looking for a quarter and Scotch tape so the cars would get better traction. And then he would pop out sections of the track and fiddle with the glow-in-the-dark guard rails to make the course more challenging.
Mom asked me last weekend about all of my dolls at her house... When would I get them? Hm. That's very hard to say. I kept most of my dolls in very good condition. My great aunt A taught me about doll collecting growing up, and I even have quite a few of their original boxes still left. So I'm a bit tentative about letting Boop rip into them with reckless abandon. However, there is always the prospect of Boop and I shopping together at the toy store. And I suspect that Boop and I will have heaps of fun when Santa Claus visits!
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