How Barbie Stole Christmas

Is anyone else nursing wounds from Christmas?

No, I’m not talking about emotional wounds from passive-aggressive relatives. I’m talking about actual physical wounds from opening your kids’ toys on Christmas morning.

I look like I tried to give myself a manicure with the hand mixer. I have three broken nails and four cardboard cuts (way worse than paper cuts) from trying to pry Barbie from her box. Those of you with girls know exactly what I’m talking about.

                                                          

Doesn't Barbie look pretty all dressed in her little clothes with her tiny dog, microscopic shoes, and impossibly small hair brush? Let’s open it up and start the fun! I find the scissors and get down to business while Anna looks on in wide-eyed anticipation bouncing on the sofa next to me. Did you ever try to use a pair of scissors while a child (all hopped up on Christmas) is using the couch as a trampoline? I don’t recommend it.

So I make the first cut to open the top of the box. I’m in! I pull the front and back of the package apart. Success! Now I realize that Barbie is attached to the back of the package. Fair enough. You don’t want anyone to be able to break into a package that easily in a store. I get it. On closer inspection, I find that she’s not attached to the back of the box. The box is attached to the back of the box! Okay. So I pull. Then I pull harder. What the $%^??? I look between the layers and see that they’re attached with those little plastic things (for lack of a better term) that secure price tags to clothes…only these are insanely tiny and freakishly strong! I give a good yank popping the outer back off of the inner back and giving myself my first cardboard cut of the day.

I’m exhausted, injured, pissed, and not even halfway through the task.

Anna’s still bouncing.

I look over and poor Matt is having the same experience only he’s trying to extricate a delicate-looking helicopter from its maximum security prison of a box.

Barbie is still securely fastened to the inner part of the back of her box so I give a slight pull to see just what booby traps have been set for me in this phase of “Are You Smarter than a Barbie Package.” Rope? Do I see tiny rope??? Rope that is somehow woven through the cardboard and not only twisty tied through an intricate web of plastic but also secured with packaging tape over the twisty tie to the underside of the box? I sigh and roll my eyes. I didn't pay $10.99 to endure this kind of frustration on Christmas morning. This is a doll, right? Do the people that work at the Barbie factory have some kind of contest to see how many aneurysms they can trigger?

Well, this mom isn't going to play their little game! I decide to bypass this ridiculousness and go right for the throat. Literally. This tiny rope is wound around Barbie’s neck and through the box so I (very carefully) try to wiggle the tips of my scissors into the small space in between. I. Am. Victorious! She’s free! I've won! I've…wait. What?!?

She’s not free. Her hands and feet (and brush and dog and shoes) are bound with what looks like a teeny tiny hair elastic…and it’s clear!!! OH FOR THE LOVE!!!!!!!

I grab Barbie by the waist and yank and I hear a sickening pop as elastic bands are violently broken and fly, with abandon, all over the living room carpet.

I have managed to rip everything free from Barbie bondage except her head? How, in the name of everything that is good and holy, is her freakin’ head still attached to this hateful demon of a box? And I also notice that I’m bleeding again.

Upon further inspection, I see what the problem is. Two plastic things (remember those from earlier?) are slipped through her head and attached to the other side of the #$%^…I mean box. Now, we wouldn't want to muss Barbie’s coif. So, again with the scissors (Anna’s still bouncing) I make teensie weensie snips to release her from this nightmare. HOW IS SHE STILL SMILING????? Because I’m certainly not!

Barbie has officially been freed but now is sporting two plastic protrusions from the back of her head. Cutting them is out of the question. I could cut hair. I’d never hear the end of it. So I pull. They don’t budge. Then I push. Hey! It worked!! They’re pushed safely into Barbie’s skull without anyone being the wiser. Barbie is still smiling so I’m assuming it doesn't bother her, either.

I smile a self-satisfied smile. I have won. Then I realize that Anna isn't bouncing anymore. She’s not even on the sofa anymore. She’s on the floor playing with her crayons and coloring books. You know, the toys that took absolutely no effort to open. Bless her.

But not to worry! Barbie has had her fair share of playtime so my severed finger and bandage wrapped thumb can happily look the other way.

In the grand scheme of things, we had a wonderful month celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, we ate a ridiculous amount of fabulous food, we spent time with family and friends, and we can head into the new year with full hearts and gratitude for all the blessings that 2012 brought us. And after all, isn't that what it’s all about?