Jack: Why do I have your name and phone number tattooed across my chest and your initials tattooed on the bottoms of my feet?
Me: In case you get lost or a wily 8-year-old tries to claim you’re his. This is common practice. In my day, Cabbage Patch Dolls were very expensive and for a time, hard to come by. My Little Ponies looked identical and it was hard to tell whose was whose, except for level of wear and hoof initials.
J: Could you explain why my hair is always very short and badly cut?
Me: This comes from a deep-seated urge to take scissors to the hair of anything I own. Unfortunately, I’m very bad at it. Once I just kept trimming a pony’s tail until it was down to a sad little nub.
J: Is that what happened to the dog?
J: Are you sure? I saw you trimming him with a pair of scissors. Also, he doesn’t really have eyebrows like the schnauzers I see in pictures.
Me: You’re getting very picky. Next question.
J: I’ve been missing my hand for the last three months. Any chance of getting that fixed?
Me: I can’t find it. It’s very common for them to break off, especially the ones that can move at the wrist. Barbie had this problem, but she managed just fine with one hand.
J: Are you ever going to stop trying to shove my leg into that plastic stand?
Me: Contrary to what you’re telling me, I’m pretty sure you need it to stand up.
J: OK, but could you at least stop hugging me and smelling my head in front of my friends? Last time you sighed and said, “Ahhhh, still got it.”
Me: Maybe you shouldn’t have such a delectable and long-lasting fruit scent emanating from your head. You know, some Strawberry Shortcakes could blow fruit-scented kisses.
J: I guess that explains your squeezing my torso and smelling my breath.
Me: All right, bedtime. Go tuck yourself into your pouch. And quickly. I don’t know why it’s always such a big production getting you in and out of that thing.
J: Mom, I’ve told you a hundred times I’m not a Popple. And when Dad gets home, can you please remind him that I don’t have a button on my back that he can press to make me punch people?
Me: I’ll talk to him. Sometimes your father just loses touch with reality.
Me (to myself): I think it’s time to put him in the box to give to the “less fortunate.”
Photo credits: http://flavinbagel.deviantart.com, crushable.com