Not me. Really.
I have not broken this rule. I did not break the no way will anyone in our family ever own an overpriced, over hyped doll rule.
I did not let my daughter buy an American Girl doll. Not me. What a waste of money. It's just a doll.
Now, when I want to feel better about myself and my silly rules, I remind myself that at least I didn't buy it for her. Nope. She bought it herself.
Megan literally vibrated with excitement while I grabbed a Starbuck's mocha (conveniently across from the store entrance) to help me survive the experience. Mocha in hand, I followed Megan as she marched in to American Girl with her wad of cash, fresh from her birthday card, hand in mine, and with a bit of prodding, approached a gentleman and asked, "Can you show me where Lanie is?"
He led us to the middle of the store, past fantastic glass encased displays of dolls, to her choice: this year's doll that looks amazingly like my own girl. Blond with long curly hair. And a penchant for outdoor adventure. And bugs. At least, that's what the book about her says.
Megan took her time. She looked at the accessories, weighed the cost of doll plus one extra. Is the doll laptop worth $26 or is the hammock? If she had a couple hundred more dollars, would she buy Lanie's camper and where would she put it? She made a full sweep of the store, admiring doll couches, puppies, sunglasses and endless matching outfits.
She chose carefully. The doll and the hammock. Oh, the decisions of a nine year old.
She filled her big red bag and checked out, chatting comfortably with the cashier.We made our way to the van, and I clicked the light on so she could immediately open the box. She fretted that the doll's hair would be mashed in the back just like a Barbie's straight from the box. No worries. Lanie came complete with a hairnet, and bouncy hair.
For days, she's done her schoolwork with Lanie nearby, admiring each detail.
It turns out you often do get what you pay for. But I will never admit it. Not me.