For those of you who didn’t know little me, let me fill you in on a little secret: I loved playing Barbies when I was younger.
There was just something about Barbie’s fly school dances (featuring New Kids On The Block, the only pop band we knew of), digging through her travel case for just the right outfit, and hanging out on the astroturf by her hot tub that I couldn’t get enough of.
My dad, knowing this, made me a Barbie house. A homemade, ‘let me check how much scrap lumber I have’ kind of a Barbie house.
It was fabulous from the get-go. Dad and I tracked down scraps of wallpaper to dress up the living room walls, dug up some extra shelf liner for the kitchen flooring, and stapled carefully cut carpet scraps for that plush, wall-to-wall look.
After 6 years of nearly constant use, I hit teenagerdom. My friends and I discovered makeup (just barely there, right dad?) and boys (who knew they weren’t completely gross?!) and life changed forever.