Obi Wanda turned seven today and the ONLY thing she wanted for her birthday was the only thing I wanted when I was about her age: a Barbie Dream House.
The grown up, adult, me doesn't have a lot of interest in the whole Barbie doll thing for all the same reasons other moms don't care for them. But the little girl in me remembers playing quietly in my room with dolls dressed in the beautiful clothes my grandmother lovingly sewed for them. And I remember being ecstatic when my parents gave me my very own dream house complete with (gasp!) elevator.
So it didn't take much for me to get on the bandwagon when it was time to buy Obi Wanda's birthday present. I couldn't wait to see her face when she opened it and watch her play with her own appropriately dressed, and not-at-all hoochie looking Barbie dolls just as I had done 30 years ago.
I got me a good deal on one at Amazon and used a bunch of Swagbucks toward the purchase. (Haven't used Swagbucks? You should.) The decor on the box looked a bit Pepto Bismol-y to me, but I was more caught off guard by how massive it was.
Anyway, we gave it to her this morning and she was appropriately thrilled, we sat down to our customary Dunkin' Donuts birthday breakfast and then I set about assembling the dream house, or as it soon became, the dadgum house with the most worthless instructions ever.
PB had to go to work so I was utterly on my own with construction and all by myself when I stepped back and looked at the final product:
I stared at it, looked at me sweet children and wondered to myself, "Why is there no adult around here to hear me holler that this dadgum house looks like a brothel?!?!"
I believe that Mattel calls this Barbie Bordello chic.