I admit it: I must be nuts.

The convergence of trying to raise our kids well, Christmas killer shopping, and not wanting disappointment on Christmas morning are all converging to drive me insane. How, you ask? Here's the backstory in all three areas.
1. In that Michelle Malkin kerfuffle about the fauxto of her in the bikini, I saw the list of "old-fashioned" toys: Holly Hobbie, Strawberry Shortcake, and My Little Pony. I never got really into the later two, but I liked Holly Hobbie. I had a doll, a lunchbox, and a puzzle. I think because of that resemblance I was told of to Melissa Gilbert in Little House on the Prairie... I'd have had more if I'd gotten an allowance before I was 10, but that's another story. So what did I do when I saw this list? Hit eBay to start adjusting their taste to the old-fashioned and simple. And it's worked. To a point.
How do I know? That brings us to Circumstance #2, Christmas Killer Shopping. I noticed a while back new Holly Hobbie, wearing jeans and a denim hat. Oh, interesting, I thought, but I like the vintage ones better.
Maddie saw the new ones on a commercial and likes those. "The hard ones, where you can play with them and put the clothes on?" she said. Until three days ago, all she wanted was a Cabbage Patch Baby.
So I start looking online for the dolls. And looking. And looking. Try it yourself. I'll wait.

(cue Jeopardy think music)


Fifty bucks on eBay for a doll is NOT on the agenda. It was not reassuring to see "VHTF! MIB!" next to several listings. Great, my kid wants something trendy. Exactly what I was trying to AVOID with this Holly Hobbie bit! God sure has a sense of humor.
Which brings us to Circumstance the Third, Disappointment on Christmas Morning. We were actually looking to buy one of those dolls at something less outrageous than $50 and were outbid. So this is getting to me like a loose tooth. I called my mother, who has a better chance of being at a store unaccompanied and able to get one.
It still rankled. And lurked. And stewed in the back of my mind. You may have guessed by now that this has a happy ending, as I'm able to write a coherent sentence (if not paragraph). This afternoon, Madeleine came to me quite contrite. "Mom, I broke her arm off. It was an accident, I just went with my thumb..." It was Polly Pocket. For those who don't know, Polly Pocket is the equivalent of PG-rated Barbie in miniature. You know how annoying Barbie's shoes are? This is worse because they're a third of the size.
But in my insanity, what did I do? "Okay, Madeleine, we'll get you a new Polly Pocket." Right now, this afternoon. I decided we'd have leftovers for dinner and trucked all three of them out to the minivan. It meant we had an excuse to hit the toy section today. Otherwise, I'll have nightmares about Holly Hobbie. Yeah, I'm that way.
What did I find at our local megamarket? A new Polly Pocket, this time with the pet store instead of the quick-change car. Madeleine was happy with that. Dale was consoled by a $5 pack of Hot Wheels, and Rachel's silence was bought with a small My Little Pony knockoff.
What of the Holly Hobbie? They had several, one of which came home with us. But it's for the Giving Tree girl, as far as Madeleine knows. She chose a tag that says "4 year old girl toy." Mom just might make a mistake when wrapping and slip in something else for that.