Millie is officially six today. My baby. Six. I’m still processing that.
Okay, so maybe I came to grips with that a long time ago (like the day I cried while packing away all my favorite baby sleepers knowing we would never use them again…ahem).
Still, there’s this:
I’m not sure how I managed this feat, but somehow I managed to trick convince suggest to my mom that an American Girl doll would make a swell 6th birthday present for each of my kids. She fell for it agreed.
So we are now the proud owners of Kit, Samantha, Molly, and Julie.
Julie is the doll from 1974. Excuse me? Seriously? When did the 70s become historical? I mean, it isn’t that we’re all that sorry that 70s fashion is a thing of the past, but really?
I guess it’s true. But secretly I think the American Girl people knew that this generation of moms would really want Julie in their home so they could relive riding on one of these (I had the basket and everything) or remember the glory days of recording our own albums on one of these (I had the 8yo DJ thing down).
American Girl is no fool. They know who they are really marketing to. It isn’t the history of the doll they are interested in. It is the nostalgia it produces in the buyer.
And today, it is the joy in the six-year-old who received it. Mom and Dad, she loves it. Thanks. And you can be relieved that we’re officially out of the 6s. Time to start talking about the 12s now…