C'est Cheese!

 

 

 

Pioneer Barbie

I would've just had conniption fits of excitement if I'd had a Barbie dress and sunbonnet like this when I was 10!

When I unwrapped Pioneer Barbie that Christmas, The Nephew, then about 4 or 5, and his mother were there. The Nephew's mother is someone who, on a good day, I can't tolerate. She's of the ilk that it is a woman's solemn duty to have babies (and she walks the walk, too... she's already had four, by four different fathers. She gave two up for adoption, though) and children are a gift from God and girls are sugar and spice and everything nice and boys are snakes and snails and puppy dog tails and all that stuff. That Christmas was my first experience with her, though. So anyway, I unwrap Pioneer Barbie, and The Nephew comes over to inspect it. "Can I see it?" he asks me. "Sure, " I say, starting to hand over the box. But Mommy reaches her hand over and stops me. "No," she says, and at my puzzled look, adds "Nephew doesn't play with Barbies." "Oh?" I say. "How come?" I'm expecting the usual Barbie-is-sexist/unhealthy discourse. But Mommy goes "He's a boy." I wait for a moment... but it slowly sinks in that, yes, that is her reason. "So?" I say. "He's a BOY," she repeats. "Boys don't play with dolls." Good God! This from a girl born after 1970, too. "You know, my brother played Barbies with me, and I played cars-and-trucks and GI Joe with him, and we both turned out fine," I said to her. "Well, Nephew doesn't play with dolls!" she snapped, and ignored me for the rest of the evening. 

Good gravy.

Back to the Barbies....