The Doll

I love horror movies. I even like haunted houses. Wax museums scare me, but only because it all looks so real. And because of that 80's movie, Waxwork. Scary stuff, I tell ya. Other than that, not much else creeps me out.

Today, after I dropped Maddie off at school, I was standing in the parking lot, talking to Maddie's friend's mom. Along came another mom. She got out of her van, and said. "Do you want to see my newest baby?" Of course, we said yes and she reached into the back seat and pulled out a basket.

Okay, the first thought that ran through my head was, Why is it in a basket? Then I thought, wait a minute, it's not moving.

It was a doll. A very lifelike doll. One that looked exactly like the picture that was in the basket with it. It sent chills down my spine. Apparently she makes these, and sells them at craft shows. You should say something. Don't be weird. It would be rude if you leave right now. Put your keys back in your pocket. Say something nice. Say something. Now.

"That's amazing. It's looks so weir- I mean, life like." Ok. Can I leave now? Please don't make me look at it anymore. Chelsea, she doesn't know you. Do you want her to know what a freak you are? It's just a doll. A very creepy, looks like it's about to cry any minute, doll. Noooooo! What is she doing. Don't touch it. Please don't touch it. You might wake it up.

Then she starts talking.

"I made it the exact weight it was when he was born. And look at the eyelashes." What? No no no. PUT. IT. DOWN.

"Here. Wanna hold it?" Deep breath. It'll be over in a minute.

So I took the doll. What could I do? Was I supposed to cuddle it close? Try to burp it? I didn't know what the proper etiquette was, so I held it, reminiscent of how I used to hold Maddie when she had a really, really bad poopy diaper. Under her arms, far away from me and my nose.

And the doll's head flopped to the side. AAAAAARRRRRRHHHHHHHH!! What have I done?

She reached out, like the ever- ready, protective new mom, and took her doll back.

"You must always support his head," she said, like it was my first time to hold something that resembled a baby.

"I gotta get home. Good seeing you." I jumped in my car and drove off.

And made the vow, once and for all. I'm never going into a wax museum. And probably not to her house for coffee, either.