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After combing through a catalog full of “natural” products in search of the anti-P.B., I spotted a cloth baby I thought she would like, a pudgy pink-cheeked cherub named Erik, made by a Swedish brand called Rubens Barn. came into our lives, hoping to shift my daughters’ affections away from it and towards something else, I bought Vivie a new doll for Christmas.
![babies chewing on plastic bags babies chewing on plastic bags](https://canary.contestimg.wish.com/api/webimage/5bf4f90d78ba8744ce0a053d-large.jpg)
The doll is from a line of Hasbro called Baby Alive we called her The Pee Baby, or P.B. It worked best when they dressed her in the mostly absorbent diaper she came with, but often they would give her a whole bottle and then forget to put the diaper on, leaving her lying on the rug in a puddle of her own water. The worst thing about her, though, was this: If she was “fed” a bottle of water, she’d pee it all out a few minutes later. Her body was too hard to bend, though her arms and legs and neck could swivel all the way around. Her painted-on blue eyes seemed startlingly wide, like someone slipped her an energy drink, and her mouth hung open eagerly, showing off two teeth whose color had worn from aggressive feeding.
#Babies chewing on plastic bags skin#
Everything about her plastic body seemed artificial: Her skin was a peachy shade like a spray tan. I hated the doll from the beginning, since my daughter Vivie received her as a third-birthday present three years ago. I took two small slices of the doll-small enough, I hoped, that the girls wouldn’t notice-and slid them into a wax-paper bag, which I would mail to a chemistry professor in another city the next morning. A toe or an ear would have been easier to cut, but my daughters would have been alarmed at that. It was quiet in the house the kids were sleeping in their room, unaware of what I was doing to one of their favorite toys. One night last year, I found myself sitting at the dining-room table, scraping the upper thighs of a baby doll with a chisel.