Is There An Echo in Here?

N, from upstairs: Mommy! MOMMY!!! COME HERE!

C, racing up from the family room: WHAT? WHAT'S WRONG?!?!?

N: Nothing. But look! Baby Alive! She comes with a coach and DIAPERS! Can I get it? Can I? Can I?

C: NO. We have our own Baby Alive sleeping upstairs right now.

N, perplexed: No, we don't.

C: Yes, WE DO. Her name is Bonnie. She is our Baby Alive.

N, disgruntled: *sigh* Yeah, but I want the doll. It has diapers.

C: Trust me, it's not happening. Santa will know that I said NO.

As soon, as I said, "We have our own Baby Alive", I froze. Cocked my head to the side like a confused puppy. I was hearing an echo, one from more than 30 years ago. Only then I was the one wanting Baby Alive and my mother was the voice of reason (or killjoy, depending on your perspective) pointing out that we already had one, my sleeping infant brother.

I was just as annoyed by the flat refusal as Natalie is today. I'd bet money that I rolled my eyes and flounced off, too. 30 odd years later, though, I finally understand why my mother would have bought me a case of beer before buying me that doll.

Paying for SHIT? Doubt it. What a disgusting toy.

Hopefully, 30 years from now, Natalie will be fortunate enough to have a similar discussion with her own daughter about their real-life Baby Alive.

They say we end up becoming our mothers. I guess I got one step closer today.