The Sassy Princess was clear about what she really, really wanted for Christmas this year. A dollhouse and a Holiday Princess Barbie. Those two things have been the constants in her 3rd year of life, and while other interests have come and gone at the speed of light (“I want an orange! No, not an orange! I want some milk! No, not some milk! I want to color! No, not color! I want to dance! No, no dancing! I want to….” ad naseum, 24/7.)
these two things were brought up every day, right before bed.
“Mamma! Tell me a story about me, a princess, and I get really little and go to live in my dollhouse! My new dollhouse! My Christmas dollhouse! And I live there with my dollies and we have a big party! And I’m very, very little!”
And when she says it, she looks at me with a sweet smile and a sparkle in her eye…much like she did when we went to Disneyland earlier this year…and I just melt. Melt, I tell you!
And all I can think about is how she is almost certainly our last child, and this is almost certainly our last Christmas with a 3 year old in the house, and how quickly time will fly by, and how soon enough she’ll be too old to want to play with her dollies in a playhouse and instead ask for a Tempurpedic bed for Christmas….and the deep maternal drive kicks in and I think to myself, “By jove, SHE WILL HAVE A DOLLHOUSE!!!”
You know, one with little dolly furniture…
and a certain homey feel…
where all her dolls will be able to play in all the rooms…
And, well, we got a dollhouse. My maternal passion may have gone into overdrive, though, you think? Because the scale of this sucker is a little….grandiose….
But darn it, this gets me every time!
The upside is that when Sassy Princess is too old to use this for her dolls, Hubby and I can move in and use it for our retirement condo.