Rosey loves her dolls. Assorted dolls of all shapes and fabrics line the house. Several sleep in her bed while others rest in tableaus around the room. One is sharing the couch with Bear right now, left to keep him company while he watches tv, and I had to trek out to the car tonight to retrieve one we'd left strapped in Cass's car seat.
This interest in her little persons is sweet, especially since she's recently discovered they can leave their clothes on, and we all happily listen while she tells us about dolly's day or prattles on about boots and hair ribbons and if Ally needs a diaper change or not.
Unfortunately, this also puts me in the exalted position of The Fixer.
'Mama, can you put her shoes on? Where is Bigbee's* sweater? Have you seen Nina's romper?'
Then, today, we hit the big time.
'Mama, can you brush Strawberry's hair?'
Strawberry smiled at me, her hair in two enormous plaits, looking like an afro gone wild.
So, I cut the bands out of her hair, swirled her around in the bath-tub, and brushed Strawberry's hair. She still looked like a Big Haired Beauty Contestant, but it was a little more manageable.
So I did what every other person does in this day and age. I went on the internet.
And just in case you have dolls and hairstyling woes, I present to you:
I'm going to try soaking her head in fabric softener tomorrow. 'Cause I'm the Mama, and I can fix things. Or at least find out how it's done.
*We're assuming this is a contraction of Big Boy, the doll's original name.