Thursday, December 22, 2011
As far as I'm concerned there are two types of women in the world: American Girl women and every one else. I don't mean "American" as in "from America." I mean, "American."
If you grew up an American Girl, you:
1) wanted to name your future daughter Samantha, Addy, Felicity, or Molly.
2) love(d) reading.
3) poured over every catalog even though you knew it was the same as the last.
4) knew your Christmas and birthday list would consist of some sort of American Girl loot. And your relatives knew it too.
5) felt sorry for your friends that weren't American Girls. But of course, you were kind enough to share (but never Samantha...she's mine).
Yes, I was an American Girl. I was spoiled. I had Samantha, Molly, Kirsten, Addy, and Felicity. I had every book. I had accessories. Each doll had multiple outfits and beds. I actually was subscribed to the American Girl Magazine for a long time.
Like I said, I was spoiled.
Without being too sappy or dramatic, I have to say, I love what the American Girl company gives young girls. The characters are respectable, believable, and identifiable. It's a cure for the Bratz and other ridiculous toys for little girls.
Kendall got a bitty baby for her first birthday. She still loves it. The last time we were at my parents' house, she got out my old dolls and had a ball. And then she rented the Kit Kittredge movie from the library. She was in love and I was fanning the flames.
So Wednesday, we did something awesome
for me for Kendall. We stopped by the American Girl store in Dallas, birthday money in hand from grandparents.
Kendall and I could have stayed all day but Colin and Cason were with us. Next year, sister. Next year.