Me: (Singing crappy Barbie jingle that has been stuck in my head all day)
Mr. Hobbitfeet: I don't even know what to say to that.
Me: I remember that song because I totally wanted that Barbie Dream Kitchen and didn't get it. I think my mom felt that Barbie furniture was unnecessary and that we should just make do with whatever was lying around.
Mr. H.: (Making legs out of his fingers) Weeeee! I'm a Barbie look at meeee!
Me: Idiot! We had Barbies just not a lot of furniture.
Mr. H.: Well, why not make the Barbies up too?
Me: I practically did, my sisters didn't let me play. . .
Mr. H.: Yeah and you got the bald ones I know!
Me: Don't forget naked!
Mr. H.: Yeah naked. Poor baby. I was the youngest of seven, if I didn't eat my food in 3.5 seconds flat, I didn't eat!
Me: Uh-huh sure! Also, sometimes their feet would be chewed off.
Mr. H.: Geez that sounds like something from a chemo ward.
Me: What!? Cancer patients have feet!
Mr. H.: Not if they have foot cancer!
Me: I'm not sure I've heard of foot cancer.
Mr. H.: Only Barbies get it.
Me: This conversation is stupid.
Mr. H.: Hey! Guess what?
Mr. H.: "We girls can do everything with Barbie!"
Me: (sigh) "We girls can do ANYTHING. RIGHT, Barbie?"
Mr. H.: Whatever. I'm sure Girl will correct me on it again tomorrow.
Me: It's from the 80's. . .
Mr. H.: I don't care!
21 hours ago