Barbie's out of the closet. She won't be coming out of the box at our house. She will be going back to the store.
And Sydney is learning a painful but important lesson.
Barbie was going to be the centerpiece of Sydney's Easter basket. Instead the doll will forever be a reminder of why you don't snoop when mommy tells you not to.
And it's one more reminder for me of how very different my children are. Mars vs. Venus. Dogs vs. cats. Boy child versus girl child.
I've always stored gifts in my closet. It's a big walk-in (more accurately, walk-through) closet between our bedroom and bathroom. At Christmas time it's no secret there are gifts there. I cover up and stack high the kids' presents, but many other packages end up piled on the floor.
Last Christmas, AJ happened to walk into the closet looking for me. He spotted a gift for a friend's son (the colors and fonts on the package made it obvious it was a gift for a young boy) and came rushing out, covering his eyes as if he'd just stared too long at the sun. "Mom!" He immediately confessed, "I think I might have just seen a present for me." When I figured out what he was talking about and told him it wasn't a present for him, the relief on his face was evident.
That's how AJ is.
And then there's Sydney.
Sydney, I caught Friday, standing on a stool to peer inside closet doors in search of the suspected Barbie toy. It should be noted she moved aside a laundry basket of clothes that had been positioned in front of the closet doors.
How did she know to even look there? And what has she seen in there before?
Earlier Friday, we'd gone shopping as a family. Jeff and I had it all plotted out: we'd shop together initially, then he'd watch the kids in the toy section while I picked up some items needed by the Easter Bunny. Jeff would then treat the kids to "slushies" while I went through the check out line.
All was proceeding as planned until I happened to spot a really cute dress for Sydney and pulled her aside to hold it up for her. My way-too-observant daughter did a quick turn and, through the slots in the side of the cart, spotted and immediately recognized the Barbie packaging.
"Is there something in there for me?" She immediately asked.
Quickly bumping the cart to send frozen pizzas over the goodies I didn't want her to see, I lied. "Nope, nothing for you."
"I thought I saw a Barbie."
"I told you we're not getting any toys today." I then tried distracting her with the dress. It mostly worked, though she continued to sneak glances at the cart.
When we got home, I immediately took the bag with Easter treats into my closet. We have one section of closets with mirrored doors, and it was there that I stuck the bag. It's separate from the area where Christmas presents are stacked.
The rest of the shopping bags got dumped on the kitchen counter. Sydney wandered through, "Are you sure you didn't get me a Barbie?"
"Go look in the bags," I gestured toward the counter. "They're right there."
Of course she looked. And found nothing.
A little while later, I started vacuuming. (We just bought a new Dyson. Very exciting. And disgusting to see how much pet hair our old vacuum had not been sucking up.) Sydney interrupted me to ask if she could look at my bottles of nail polish.
Odd request. And suspicious. The nail polish is stored behind the same mirrored closet doors where I'd just stuck the toys.
"Maybe later," I told her. "Your nail polish is in your bathroom. Why don't you go look at that?"
I continued vacuuming. Sydney continued watching TV. Or so I thought. I happened to walk into my room, and that's when I discovered Sydney peeking in the closet.
Using lines I usually reserve for the dog, I shouted, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SHAME ON YOU!"
Sydney immediately started sobbing. "I'm sorry!" She cried, reaching out her arms for a comforting hug.
There would be none of that.
"YOU GET DOWN, NOW, AND GO TO YOUR ROOM!"
More sobs and more apologies, but she did as she was told. I let her cry for at least 10 minutes while I went back to vacuuming. (It really is a cool new vacuum. And yes, I'm a dork for being this excited.)
At one point, over the sound of the vacuum, I heard her wail, "I'M A BAD GIRL!"
Jeff volunteered to go in and talk with her, after which she emerged and gave me a hug, repeating her apologies.
And then I waited. It took about five minutes for her to summon the courage to ask the question I knew would be coming.
"Do I still get the Barbie?"
"No," I said. "It's going back to the store because you did a naughty thing."
The easy solution would be to give the Barbie to her anyway. Let her think that the Easter bunny gave it to her. It'd save me a trip back to the store.
Clearly, a similar thought occurred to her. Sydney asked this morning if we were bringing the doll back to the store today. "Yup," I told her.
"Can I get another one some other Easter?" she asked hopefully.
"I don't know. We'll see," I told her.
"Maybe the Easter bunny will bring me a Barbie," a note of hope creeped into her voice.
"I don't think so," I said. "He probably heard what you did."
"Mo-om," she said, stretching my title into a two syllable word, "The Easter bunny isn't like Santa. He doesn't have a list. Santa doesn't even know the Easter bunny," she continued, but a seed of doubt had been planted.
Barbie will be going back. And Sydney will be with me when I make the return. Part of me hopes the store clerk asks for the reason for the return. It'll be interesting to hear what Sydney tells her.
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