Daddy Plays with Dolls

I vaguely remember playing dolls as a kid, but I know I did. I remember a whole lot of my sister telling me what to have my dolls say, do, and where to move, so I blame her for my limited imagination skills.

Having two little girls, I knew someday I’d have to start playing dollies with them, and today was the first day. At 4, Anna is just now getting into play acting with toys and dolls, and at 2 1/2, Claire is in LOVE with dolls. She’s a mini-mom – sometimes better than I am. Anna is not a girlie girl and doesn’t have an attachment to any one doll, but Claire has a collection of naked (it’s how she rolls) babies in every room.

I was cleaning out their playroom of some furniture today, and found a house playmat. Oh, bejeebus. What the hell did I discover?

It is now a requirement for everyone in the house to play dollies on the playmat. Even Daddy.

I took a shift, so Daddy was up. Granted, he grew up a boy (shocker), so his version of playing dolls is GI Joe and Transformers. Same but different. Dollies don’t typically blow eachother up and launch grenades at one another.

Patrick’s first few minutes of dollies was a whole lot of Anna saying, “Dada! Pepe needs to SAY something!” “Dada! You need to SING with Pepe!”

After glances over my shoulder at him to add to the dolly conversation and to interact, the boy in him came out.

“thhhhhshhhhthinoitnttttt….”

“thhhhshshhthhshhshhthttt…”

It seems Pepe has a health issue. That, or he’s preparing for tomorrow’s colonoscopy.

More, “tthhhhsnsnsalnsanssnsnsnsnnnnsssssthttttthhthhhhhhhhhhh….”

I never knew three dolls (counting stuffed animals as dolls) could fart and shit their way around the house and it could be counted as conversation.

THAT’S how Daddy plays dolls.