The woman at the estate sale earlier today saw what I was holding in my arms and sighed happily. "Ah, a Blessed Event doll, good choice!" she exclaimed, adding that she knew exactly what kind of doll it was because she had wanted one as a girl, but had never gotten one. Oh.
There were dolls everywhere, in every room of the three story house, but this Blessed Event doll, manufactured in the 1950s and made to look, and feel like a real newborn was the cheapest at $10, and the dirtiest, perfect for a stag prop. I had a funny song written by a classmate on my mind, a little diddy about breast feeding, and Applebee's, when I purchased the doll.
Now, it's almost 2 a.m. and I'm thankful that I'm completely sober because this doll chilling out on my window air conditioner unit is just the sort of thing to freak me out. I think it freaked my cat out. He sniffed a few times, and has been avoiding the doll since. I relocated it to a stool near the plants.
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