Why I Will Never Buy a Talking Doll Again

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Did you ever wish your dolls could talk?

When I logged onto my computer this morning, I was greeted by an article about a new interactive Barbie Doll that talks to your child. Hello Barbie connects to your Wi-Fi. She “listens” to your child, and “replies” based on what they have said.

When Emilie was four years old, every commercial break featured a doll named Amazing Ally. The theme song is still ingrained in my mind. Of course, all Emilie talked about was this doll and how it was the ONLY thing she wanted from Santa. It was recommended for children a little older, but against my better judgement it was wrapped and under the tree Christmas morning.

amazingally

 

From the moment we opened the box, this demonic cute doll wouldn’t shut up. No matter what we did, Ally was not happy. I could see Emilie becoming more and more frustrated as the days went by. If Ally didn’t complain that she needed new batteries she wanted her clothes to be changed.

More demanding than a 2 year old, this doll tortured my daughter day in and day out with one phrase — “Please, put on my purple tights.”

Every time, Emilie would comply. Dressing and redressing Ally on her every whim.

One evening, I was preparing dinner when I heard, “Please, put on my purple tights.”

“Please, put on my purple tights.”

“Please, put on my purple tights.”

Finally, I heard a little exasperated voice pleading with her, “But, you have your purple tights on.”

“Please, put on my purple tights.”

“Please, put on my purple tights.”

CRASH!

THUNK!

I walked into my empty living room to find Ally crumpled next to the couch.

As I picked her up, she said, “Please, put on my purple tights.”

I looked around, but Emilie was nowhere to be found. She was probably hiding from Ally and her countless demands.

Before I gave the doll the chance to go Chucky on us, I quietly removed her batteries. I half expected her to keep talking.

I placed her in a black garbage bag, tiptoed down the stairs, and quickly shoved her in the back of the closet.

When I returned upstairs, Emilie was quietly playing with dolls that could not talk back to her.

She never asked where Ally was.

Tonight, the news featured a story about “Hello Barbie.” I could see the look of longing in my younger daughter’s eyes.

Oh, heck no!

 

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