Emergency Doctors Here: Barbie Hospital

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.

Things you should know before your visit to Barbie Hospital:

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.

As the sign clearly notes, visitors will bring their own chairs.

Medicine will be provided. Lots of it.

Please do not be concerned that your neurosurgeon is Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.

Our dentistry department (Charlotte from The Princess and the Frog) and pediatric physician (Astronaut Barbie) are often without patients. They are facing lay-offs.

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.

A Royal(ish) Wedding

Sally dug the royal wedding. What wasn’t to love? Beautiful people, military uniforms, designer dresses, hats that should have toppled several women over. Naturally, Sally then spent a good chunk of wedding day executing her own version of the royal nuptials.

Throngs of onlookers awaited a glimpse of the happy prince and princess.

The bride wore a Kleenex veil and a dress by Mattel. Her necklace is genuine China-made plastic. The groom wore a look of vague detachment.

The pool party reception (hmmm, the queen in a bikini…) ended with an exuberant–and naked–bride scaling the castle’s tallest tower. Her new husband climbed up to rescue her.

The newlyweds retired to a furnished castle built by the prince himself, where they promptly began planning a family. They are expecting their first daughter tomorrow. She will have bunk beds in her room. . . . As all princesses should.

Do Not Let Your Child Read This

This thing looks like the devil incarnate compared to my kid on Thanksgiving. Photo: Erik K Veland/Flickr

On Thanksgiving, Sally hit on the world’s most efficient way to get anything she wants. We were sitting at the dinner table, mashed potatoes quickly cooling, and my mom–the hostess–said “who would like to say grace?” This is the time we all look toward my brother (the golden child) and my youngest sister (The youngest, therefore the one who automatically gets all the crappy tasks). They both stalled just a hair too long, leaving Sally her spectacular window of opportunity.

Her hand went up, preschool style. “I can do it,” said the Who from Whoville. Everyone looked at her cheerfully. Except me. I looked at her like she might projectile vomit on the turkey. She has no idea what “grace” is — at our table before dinner we say things like “MOM! I still don’t have milk!” and “What IS this?! It smells disgusting!”

But she put her hands in her lap and gazed up at my mom, who we’ll call Nan, because we call her Nan. “I’m thankful for Nan.”

And I swear checkbooks came out to pay future college tuition bills. My dad went out to the garage and brought in the pony he’d been saving for a rainy day. My mom gave Sally an entire pie. They’re building her a castle for Christmas.

Seriously, the kid could have ANYTHING after a performance like that. So I tried it with Mr. Embee. All I got was a snort and “Did you give the cat his antibiotics yet?” Guess you’ve got to be a freaking ray of sunshine to pull it off.

**The next post on this blog will be my 100th. Woah. Stay tuned for some sort of prize for a lucky reader.

Interview with a 4 year old

What is the best thing about being 4?
Because teaching numbers every day is fun.

What can you do now that you couldn’t do when you were 3?
I can hang like a big kid. I can hanging with the monkey bars that don’t have anything with the other bar, the other one that you don’t have to climb on with the next one. That’s why, I can put my feet on those bars. And my hands too, and I can SWING my legs up there and then I can be like a big kid.

What is the hardest thing about being 4?
That I can’t catch leaves.

What do 4 year olds like to eat?
Salad.

Seriously? Do you like salad?
Yeah, now I like salad. But not with noodles.

How did you grow so big?
I ate lots of good healthy food and got lots of sleep, and ate healthy food and got lots of sleep!

What do 4 year olds play with?
Jessie [from Toy Story]. Like me. And Minnie Mouse. And even the princesses I have.

What do 4 year olds NOT play with?
Baby toys. Like chewing stuff that you can chew and biting stuff and squishing ones. That is not fun to play with. That means I’m giving them away.

What will you be when grow up?
Um, a doctor. Just two things, a work like you–the same work–and I’ll be a doctor too.

Will you also be an author? I noticed you recently wrote and illustrated The Little Boy Who Lived in the Forest.
Yes, I am an author. Did you ever see a 4 year old write a book before?
No, I never have.
Well, I DID write a book.
It’s fantastic.
It’s exquisite.

Ohhhhhkay. When is a person grown up?
Um, 17. 17 is great. 17 is a grown up?
Almost.
Yay! 19 years old and then you’ll be a grown up?
Yes, basically.
All right! I can’t wait to be 19. And be BIG BIG BIG.

What is your favorite game?
I don’t know. I don’t know what I have. Dominoes.

What kind of art is your favorite?
Doing pumpkins.

Favorite animal?
A monkey. And a rabbit.

If you could have any pet, what would it be?
A bunny rabbit.

We have cats. What’s the best thing about cats?
‘Cause you get to play with them and hug them.

What do 4-year-olds think about?
Good dreams. AND they dream about Christmas lights and dancing turkeys in their heads.

What is your favorite outfit?
This one.

What else should we know about 4 year olds?
Big kids really love playing with their toys, so much they want to hug them and sometimes they get ripped.

Anything else?
Everything. They love blue blankets and red blankets and every kind of blanket they have. And they love to cuddle them like this [squeeze]. . . . Where’s the remote control?