You’ve heard this idiom, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” What if two similar trees make an apple? I suppose the apple may inherit whatever those trees have. In the form of actual inheritance and inherited characteristics. What the heck am I waxing on about? Sorry, it’s been a day.
I’m talking about Cyan and her toys, or more specifically, her Monster High dolls.
Growing up, I loved Barbies. I would brush their hair for what seemed like hours and talk to myself (I’ll get back to this later) making up storylines. My dad bought a Barbie Dream Cottage from the flea market and it was literally a dream come true. I
secretly hope think we still have it up in the garage. I played with Barbie’s entirely too long, probably middle school. And if Cyan asks me to comb one of her dolls hair, it’s incredibly therapeutic.
And in case you’ve been living under a rock, I’ll share that Allan
likes loves toys. Action figures. Always has. Collecting them. Creating them. Modifying them. Selling them. Trading them. in fact, we have a room dedicated to toys art in our house. This picture is a few years old, but imagine this wall to wall. We’re working on a 360 image, but it was not available at the time of publication.
So last year Cyan stumbled onto Monster High on Netflix. Oh Netflix, so many things to thank you for. Actually, Monster High isn’t that bad. At first I wasn’t a huge fan because I always liked “pretty” dolls. I thought the dolls were kind of scary looking. Allan graviated toward it because he’s always liked dark figures. Skeletor was his favorite. Monster High is a spin on classic monster stories with the main characters as the offspring of the original monsters. Characters like Frankie Stein (Frankenstein’s Monster and Bride), Clawdeen Wolf (The Werewolf), Cleo De Nile (The Mummy), and Lagoona Blue (Creature from the Black Lagoon) go to Monster High.
Allan bought one. Then two. Then he’d pick some extras up for when Cyan gets her blood drawn. Then he’d find some on sale at Ross. Then he’d buy a few for Christmas and before we knew it, we had enough Monster High dolls to fill a shelf. This is how it always goes with toys in our house. We even had some of the boy dolls.
I got to thinking that this Monster High thing is really me and Allan. It’s the fashion of Barbie meets the macbre of Allan’s world.
I mentioned that I “talked” to myself as a kid. I didn’t actually talk out loud, but man was my inner monologue (or dialogue?) going. At first, I did it with toys. As I got older, I would go off by myself to a random swingset or hill and make up an entire story in my head. Much like the Barbie’s, I did this for entirely too long. In college, I would walk around campus and pretend it was some other time in history. The older I get the harder it is to do because adults think too realistically. But I bring this up because my kids do it too. Only they actually do talk out loud. They make the most interesting stories. Sometimes they even sing. And heaven forbid you listen in and interrupt. Especially Atticus. He’ll yell at you, “I’m talking to myself!” My sister laughs when they do this because she remembers how I use to do it. Most everything I have read about imaginative play and self talk is positive. Phew, we are not
The last thing I wanted to share while we’re on the subject of inherited things is that the Monster High crew sit happily on my old desk/bookshelf. That’s right. My childhood bedroom furniture which served me for way too long, then went to my little sister Sarah, has found it’s way to our home. Allan and I refinished the desk/hutch and matching dresser/vanity. We didn’t keep the bed or the other chest of drawers since Cyan already had those. And we still need to get a chair, but otherwise they are back in action. With a bright white finish, they fit nicely with her shabby chic room. See if you can recognize them. #StrawberryShortcake
So yeah, the apples haven’t fallen very far:)
P.S. I really hope we can skip Ever After High. It is not as cool.