Lately, we play Barbies. Then we eat. Then we play Barbies. So you might see something of a Barbie “series” on this blog.
I am sorry.
But sometimes, Sally’s Barbies do some interesting things. This week, Mr. Embee and I had to purchase a new microwave. It came in a huge box, so naturally: BARBIE HOSPITAL! It’s a little bit ER, a little bit Grey’s Anatomy. And a little bit like a mental ward. It’s fabulous.
Doctors must stay with their patients at all times.
You will come to the hospital with broken bones. Otherwise, slap a Band-aid on it and go home, wuss.
Your boyfriend may visit you naked.
Medicine will be provided. Lots of it.
Please do not be concerned that your neurosurgeon is Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.
Our doctors have a 100 percent success rate of finding illnesses you didn’t come in for. Broken arm? Holy cow, you also have a potentially fatal sneezing disease!
Any artistic contributions to hospital design by Mommy will go unappreciated. Dude, OBSERVE the awesome first aid selection and lollipop jar. How can you not acknowledge my talent?
Our pediatrician may need to leave during your appointment to travel to the moon.
We are the leading hospital in treatment of Barbie roof-jumping injuries and Chronic Villain’s Disease, in which one’s bad guy-induced illness shifts to various body parts and is utterly incurable. CVD claims hundreds of Barbies every year. Be the cure. Donate to Barbie Hospital.
In accordance with hospital policy, your naked boyfriend should walk you home. Because he doesn’t have a license. …I just print the rules, I don’t make ‘em.