I'd like to tell y'all a story about Myrtle. AKA Big Baby.
Myrtle joined our family over Christmas back in 2007. Mamaw, my grandmother, was going through her doll-making phase and had decided to make each of her great-grandchildren a doll. At the time, there were 6 great-grandchildren. (I think--don't fact-check me on this...and don't judge me--we're up to about 40 people in the family, so cut me some slack.) And out of those 6, Ben was the only boy. So, Christmas Day at Mamaw's, all the kids opened their dolls.
Now. Just imagine pulling back some red and green wrapping paper and seeing this face. THIS. FACE.
I knew the hard work and months of time and heartfelt effort that went into making all of these dolls…so I did what any good family member would do. I smiled, thanked Mamaw for the doll…and took it home with us to Florida and buried it in the closet in hopes that it would not rise again in the middle of the night รก la Poltergeist. And there this banished baby stayed.
Until a few months ago.
Fast forward to 2012. A lot has changed. We had Lucie, moved to Tennessee and had finally gotten settled and somewhat organized in our new (rental) home. I had completely forgotten about the hideous plastic baby-creature that had been hidden away for so long. But somehow, Lucie found it. Him. Her. Whatever. Literally, this thing was still in the box…but she insisted on opening it up and adding this baby to her collection of dolls. And sleeping with it. And taking it in the car. And in the store. And EVERYWHERE ELSE. The curse of the risen doll was upon us.
People would gasp. Shudder. Coil back in fear. What…is…THAT?!?!?! And Lucie would just smile and say, "My Big Baby." (And then she would continue to carry it by its hair across the room.)
This is a problem, people. But, in my heart of hearts, I felt awful for making fun of it. This doll has been lovingly made for my firstborn son by MY GRANDMOTHER. My children's great-grandmother…it's Mamaw! How can I be so ungrateful and disrespectful?!
Well, Mamaw came to visit…and for once, I wasn't clambering to hide this baby doll away for fear of scaring my house guests. I was actually looking forward to telling her that the kids love to play with the doll that she made for Ben 5 years ago…and how much Lucie loves it and is proud of it.
In walked Mamaw…and she gasped.
I thought to myself, Yep. I'm scoring major points here--she's so happy that the kids love her doll!
"Nicki, WHAT IS THAT?!!?"
Wait--what?!?!? I said "Mamaw--you made that for Ben…!!?"
"NO I did NOT. I found that at an estate sale because I made the girls dolls and I didn't want Ben to feel left out. And he liked ducks. Good Lord, Nicki--why do you have that?! That's just creepy."
No s*@%, Mamaw.
So here we are today…this creepy baby is still as much a part of Lucie's daily routine as it is a funny focal point with friends--we've started calling her/him Myrtle because we think she would get tons of attention strapped in a Baby Bjorn and walking down Myrtle Beach, Hangover-style.
I guess I've learned my lesson--from now on, I'm double checking the heirloom-status of everything before deciding how long to keep it. Although I don't know that I could pry Myrtle away from Lucie quite yet…but I'm hoping she'll let go of it the next time a White Elephant party comes around…
