We FINALLY got rid of Emily this weekend! Woot woot! (Insert Happy Snoopy Dance here.) I told Emily not to let the trash can lid hit her on the *ss on the way out.
Colin barfed in Emily’s hair Saturday morning, and that was the last straw. Barf in Emily’s snotty, ratty hair made it finally worth it for me to stand up to my three-year-old and tell her the disgusting doll had to go.
I don’t exactly know why Colin barfed, but for some reason he decided to spew his entire sippy cup full of chocolate Carnation instant breakfast all over me, our sheets, blankets, and mattress pad. Emily was also on the bed when said barfing episode occured, but I thought she has been spared. While I cleaned up the bed, Christian took Colin in the shower. As soon as they finished and Christian opened the shower door, Colin peed on the bath rug. Let’s just say I did LOTS of laundry on Saturday.
Anyway, I took a shower myself, got started on the laundry, and thought everything was fine. Colin seemed to feel better, and I was thankful to have my nice front-load washer and dryer with the sani-rinse cycle.
I don’t know about anyone else, but after I have cleaned up that much puke, I continue to smell it the rest of the day. Every time I held Colin, I thought I smelled it, even though he had been bathed and was in new clothes. I thought I smelled it on myself, even though I had bathed and put on new clothes. So, when Zoe was sitting in my lap with Emily’s hair up her nose, I thought the fact that I smelled puke was just my imagination. Only it didn’t go away. Finally, I realized that the smell was REAL, and that Emily had not been spared after all.
I told Zoe that we needed to put Emily in the washing machine and she started screaming. I examined Emily again and began to doubt that the washing machine, as awesome as it is, would even be able to remove puke from her already snotty, crusty dreadlocks. Then I told Zoe that I thought we needed to cut Emily’s hair. She screamed louder.
Finally, I mustered up the courage and told Zoe I thought we needed to throw Emily in the trash. Of course she was not happy, so that’s where the bribing came in. I told her that if I took her to the toy store right then, she could choose any doll she wanted, as long as she threw Emily in the trash. Shockingly, she cheerfully said, “OK!”
(Noah chimed in here that he wanted to go, too, but Zoe said, “NO! Just the girls.” I finally convinced Noah to stay home with Daddy and Colin by promising to bring him back a Transformer. Hey, I know bribing isn’t the best skill in my parenting toolbox, but sometimes it’s what works.)
I hurried out the door with Zoe before she changed her mind. We threw Emily in the garage trash can on the way out. We said good-bye.
Let me just say that a going to a toy store on a SATURDAY, with a THREE-YEAR-OLD, in MALL TRAFFIC, is not the most pleasant way to spend an afternoon. It took her FOREVER to look at all of the dolls (four aisles of them), and she kept changing her mind. I am a total sucker, because we left the toy store with not one, but TWO dolls (I had to be CERTAIN that she really liked a new doll, so I figured my chances were better with two), AND a pink doll diaper bag with a blanket and bottles. Of course, we also had to pick up Noah’s Transformer and a talking firetruck for Colin. $96 and one hour later, we finally started home.
So far she seems very happy with Tiana (from The Princess and The Frog) and Belle (from Beauty and the Beast). She asked for Emily once Saturday night before bed, but I reminded her that Emily was in the trash. She said, “Oh yeah,” and then asked for Tiana. Woot woot!