Dolls Scare Me

Baby dolls scare the shit out of me.  It's not a phobia like the spider thing, but still enough for me to be eternally thankful that Pie prefers non-threatening Barbie type dolls. 

Once, when I was 22 or so, my friend's mom went on a cruise and brought back a bottle of Caribbean Cave Rum.  We drank the whole thing in about an hour, and in all honesty, that night deserves an entry all of it's own, but the important part right now happened after I had fallen asleep on the sofa.  My friend's sister, six at the time, lined up a bunch of dolls on the coffee table so that I woke up, still drunk, to their beady eyes and synthetic eyelashes staring right at me.   It was awful.

The first Christmas George and I spent together, his mom gave me a porcelain doll.  She was beautiful, but her cold, glassy gaze, and the accusing way she pointed at me were absolutely terror inducing.  I tucked her safely into the back of a seldom used closet, where I left her when we bought our house.  It's been years, but in the back of my mind, there's always that fear she'll pop up in some unexpected corner of our house, still staring and sporting that unending point.

Pie hasn't really had much interest in dolls (other than Barbies, which she can't have enough of) but they're a big thing with my in-laws, so every now and then, one enters our home.  They usually end up at the back of her built-in cupboards or the bottom of a toy bin, and I only notice them when I thoroughly clean her room.  I generally donate anything she hasn't played with in a while, but for whatever reason (most likely to terrorize me) she refuses to part with this one.

It's quite possibly the creepiest thing I've ever laid eyes on.  It's a crushed velvet stuffed bear, except instead of a cuddly bear face, it has a plastic baby face with eyes that open and close and everything.  I can't stand this thing.  I can't even describe it.  I'm too lazy to go find my camera right now and I couldn't find a Google image, but I'll post pictures of it tomorrow.

Pie found it today, while we cleaned her room, and it's now her favorite toy ever.  Of course it is.  Pie hates me.  Still, it might be just the thing to get her sleeping in her own room.  It's where she'll have to sleep if she wants that as her good night toy.  Hell will be an awfully cold the day it sleeps in my room.