I used to be on the other side of this Smackdown. Bimbo Barbie wasn't prancing into my house, no way, no how.
Then
came Christmas. And Santa at the firehouse. And kindly volunteers in
the ladies auxiliary who put a lot of time and effort into being good
neighbors and buying goodies for all the little kiddies in my
neighborhood.
Damn them.
Because the moment my daughter
opened mermaid Barbie (who my gay best friend promptly told her must be
named Ariel), she was a kid transformed. "Barbie, Mommy, look, I got a
Barbie from Santa!"
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