American Girl Dolls. It has happened to us.
The doll was a gift, a very loved, much-used doll from our babysitter. It was an extravagant hand-me-down, coming, as she did with her dowry of outfits and her hand-made quilted travel bag. Yes, the bag was made by the same baby-sitter when she was a child (or maybe her mother). Yes, the doll is not age-appropriate for a 4 year old. Regardless, it was love at first sight. Josefina became, within the space of heartbeats, my oldest daughter's very dearest best friend.
Josefina has been to see a Cirque performance. She traveled to NYC for the Rockettes (though I think she rested in the hotel room for the actual performance). Inspired by these adventures, she opted to get herself (via my daughter via my debit card) the ice-skating outfit when we visited the American Girl Store this past December.
That evening we learned that ice-skates, even pretend ones, sometimes fit more snuggly than do actual limbs. At least, in doll-reality.
The anguish my 4 year old felt when she ripped the leg off of her best friend was terrible. She was just trying to remove a shoe, and suddenly she had a whole limb in her hand. She turned deathly pale, checked her friend's face for signs of the amazing pain she must be feeling, and then proceeded to completely and utterly melt-down into misery. She cradled the doll, she tried to explain that she didn't mean it, she cried and cried and cried. I can't over-emphasize the trauma. Bill and I agree that it was truly about the most awful and sad thing we'd ever witnessed, up there with his dad dying, Katrina devastation, and the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. Of course I'm exaggerating a little (only a little), but in that moment, we understood that this was the most visceral and real pain and loss my daughter had felt in her short life. She's a lucky kid that breaking a doll would be her biggest loss in life but we understood it would also have been callous and mean-spirited not to take it seriously.
Also, parents are whiggy when their kids are truly upset, so we were panicky to fix this. I looked at Josefina and quickly realized I would forever be a failure to my daughter because, even in the gaze of those longing red-rimmed eyes, I could not fix the doll. Mom's unending supply of super glue and rubberbands would not be adequate to this break.
We checked the internet. Googled American Doll Repair and discovered DIY tips for restringing dolls. Holy crap, that looked complicated. Hiding the amputated leg from view while the child wept in her father's lap, I read about removing the head, un-stuffing the body, restringing, then reassembling... No way did I want to be responsible for the complete disembowelment and decapitation of Josefina. Did they have doll anesthesia? For that matter, mom anesthesia?
Then we found our savior: the American Girl Hospital (which I'm sure you already knew about, being so much smarter than I am). We read up on the admission procedures, the treatments, the accommodations (and no, I'm not even joking). The rates are reasonable at $30 for restringing a leg, especially considering the hospital gown itself would run $20 as an outfit at the American Girl Store. WeeE was not wholly comforted, not even when I tried to perk her up by pointing out that at least she hadn't poked Josefina's eyes out ($24, same eye color only), lost her whole head ($39), or lost her whole BODY ($39). Somewhere about then, Bill and I realized that little brothers must play heavily into the need for the doll hospital.
Finally though, with a plan in hand, we were able to stopper the tears. Duly, the next week, I shipped Josefina off to the doll hospital. At the post office, I explained to the post master that this was the most precious shipment I had ever made. We shipped it both insured and delivery confirmation. He was duly serious as he moved the box to the outgoing pile. I appreciated his solemnity. WeeE dutifully called her babysitter to report that she'd hurt the doll and was so sorry she hadn't taken better care. Again, the babysitter didn't laugh or make light of how serious my daughter was taking this and for that, I am grateful. She assured WeeE that she trusted she was a good doll mommy and that everything would be fine.
Weeks went by. I saw that the package arrived. I saw the charge hit my checking account. Apparently the doctors could operate without a consultation. Yesterday, WeeE started to ask when we thought Josefina would come home. I tempered her hopes by reminding her that they asked to have three to four weeks. It'd only been two weeks so far. She stared pensively out the car window. I imagined she was thinking of Josefina in the hospital (though it's just as likely she was thinking about plot twists in Scooby Doo or how to con another cupcake out of my good will).
Today I was back in the office after the long weekend and I saw that a package had arrived. I send important packages to work, where they are safer. Honestly, I was giddy. I called Bill, "She's back!" We agreed that we'd wait until he got home to open the box, because, well, this was a major parenting achievement. We had gotten the doll, her best friend, fixed. We wanted to be there, all together, for the reunion.
It almost lived up to the unreasonably high expectations we had. WeeE was ecstatic to see her doll back. Josefina was home, dressed smartly in her hospital gown, hospital ID bracelet, and neatly braided hair. We read the card from the hospital, prescribing light play for a week and TLC for two more weeks. We inspected the repaired leg. WeeE ran upstairs to get Josefina's rocking chair, so she could 'rest'.
Somehow all was right in the world again, just for a little while at least. Tonight, heading to bed, I'll see Josefina, WeeE's patient and forgiving best friend, relaxing in her rocking chair with both legs firmly attached, and I'll know that for a few more weeks anyhow, I'm still awesome in my daughter's eyes. Even when the super glue failed. Thank you, American Doll Hospital. Without you, I might have postponed failing my kids just a few weeks longer.
awesome. totally awesome.
Posted by: IMGoph | January 19, 2011 at 04:11 PM
Your posts are some of the best ever.
And although my 19 mos daughter has yet to play with a doll at all (if it doesn't have wheels, she's not interested), the American Doll Hospital sounds like a very good resource to keep in the back of my mind!)
Posted by: Danie | January 19, 2011 at 11:58 PM