Barbie - The Ultimate Weapon

Okay. She's tougher than she looks . . .

My little brother and sister were playing.

Something they wasted a lot of time doing.

When they could have been involved with much more productive pursuits.

Like me.

Sitting in the chair, reading.

Ahem.

Fiery, three-year-old Anita had a new Barbie doll.

She was combing its hair and dressing and undressing.

Happily absorbed in what she was doing.

Placid, five-year-old Blair had been playing with some of his toys.

Also happily absorbed.

Then he noticed Anita’s activities.

Hmmm.

This looked interesting.

He watched for a few minutes.

Fascinating.

Finally, his curiosity had to be addressed.

“May I see it?” he asked.

I should point out that he asked politely.

Blair was always polite.

Still is, but that is another story.

Moving on . . .

Anita looked at him. “Sure,” she said, grabbing her new Barbie by its feet and holding it out.

Blair moved closer.

Closer.

He reached out.

Whereupon (good word) Anita lifted her Barbie and whacked him over the head with it.

“See!” she said.

“Ouch!” Blair rubbed his head. “Whydja do that?”

But Anita was back to playing.

“I guess I won’t look at it then,” he said.

Of course there were reports and repercussions.

Punishment was meted out.

And all was forgiven.

But not forgotten.

Moving ahead many years . . .

Our baby sister is achieving a significant age this fall.

Brother Blair already has plans.

I won’t tell you what they are, but they may or may not include something to do with a Barbie doll.

Isn’t payback grand?

More later . . .