It’s time for Barbie to go get pregnant. We’re thinking of it as going off to college. Higher education. Potential pregnancy. Same-same.
Did I say that out loud?
I could bore you all with the “reasons” why I in invited myself along: never been to an AI facility, totally bored with broken ribs, fun with Daisy and Bella, want to see and take scrapbook pics of Barbie in her new digs. All true. But you know the real reason, right? Let’s see, three hours going, an hour there, three hours back. SEVEN hours!
Finally, a road trip with eating potential. That’s at least a Happy Meal. It would make a Happy Meal look downright modest. FRIES.
Daisy spends forever (the night before) buffing a mud encrusted Barbie to an other wordly gloss. No arriving at the Fancy Schmancy clinic looking like a horse cutout of The Great Salt Flats. She’s going to arrive as a show ready hunter.
Timing is tight on moving day. I volunteer to get there early for HazMat duty, in case she rolls.