Ahhhhh yes. Meet "BB," Cal's anatomically correct boy doll!!! (His name choice, not mine. I'd have gone with Percy, just for the high chance of mispronunciation & resulting entertainment alone.)
BB, though certainly not Cal's *favorite* toy, became a toy he'd use mostly for imitating. For example, if I changed Claire's clothes, he changed BB's. If I rocked Claire, he rocked BB. If I nursed Claire, he'd fake-nurse BB (I am SO not shitting you). Hell, BB could even drink a bottle & piss (but he preferred the boob)! My "become-a-good-daddy" plan was working! At least temporarily...
As Cal grew older, feeding and watching BB "drain the main vein" became far less exciting when he realized the magnitude of the work involved in taking care of a baby. He didn't have time for that crap when he could instead be driving around his Little Tikes car or Hummer truck or shooting baskets in the driveway. BB, his newly acquired doll stroller, his potty chair, his bottle, his change of clothes... well, suffice it to say, they became paperweights. $65 down the shitter, dammit!
Fast forward 11 years to the other night when we were downstairs as a family playing pool. I spied BB & his stroller wayyyyyy up high on a shelf & decided it would be fun to pop Pocket into that stroller & take that dwarf for a spin! Scott had a little too much fun zooming her around, as the wheels were about bust off that bad boy! As you can see below, she was NOT amused (but we all were). How the F can our 9 lb., almost 7 year old still fit in a DOLLY STROLLER?!?!? I am SO taking her out in that to the mall next time I go.
|"Am I in range to sack-tap this a-hole? Let me check because it. is. ON."|
After her little joyride, the rest of the fam resumed their game of billiards while Mrs. Pocket & I chilled on the couch. I noticed BB had been deposited on the couch next to me. I picked him up, remembered my
clusterf*ck of a search for him a decade+ earlier, giggled & decided to remind myself (and my lap-mate, Lola) why he was so friggin' expensive fabulous.
I cannot be held responsible for the series of events which unfolded thereafter, as it was COMPLETELY out of my hands. Promise.
(Wish I had a way of viewing this as a flipbook, because that shit would be badass...)
|Checkin' out BB's "set-up"|
|"I shouldn't be lookin' at this dude's magic stick..."|
|"But I can't look away!"|
|"I feel so dirtyyyyyy... but is that uncircumcised? Just curious..."|
|"If ogling that shaft is wrong, I don't wanna be right."|
|"Makin' BB my bitch!"|
|"Suck it, MOTHERRRRR... my head IS bigger than this jaundiced jackass next to me."|
|"I hate alllllllllllll of you!!!!!!!! SO. OVER. THIS. SHIT."|
|One word: PERSONAL SPACE. Wait, that's two...|
|"This fatty is boring me to tears."|
|"All he does is sleep. I'm gonna have to teach this putz about pulling all nighters..."|
|"...and projectile vomiting...."|
|"...and fake crying to make it look like Claire's the bad sister."|
|"I am sooooo misunderstood, dammit!!!!"|
And when are these friggin' chickenpox scars gonna go away?! This is some BS."
|"Maybe you are the only one who truly understands me, BB..."|
|"What am I saying?!?!? F*ck this shit... AMF!!!"|
[NOTE: No dwarves were emotionally scarred/shamelessly subjected to BB's exhibitionism thanks to the lovely Cortical Visual Impairment (CVI). You're welcome.]