Why is it that for every child, a sinister, evil baby will not cease to exist? I remember my sister Aprils evil doll, named Yellowdee. She had yellow hair made of yarn, and we convinced ourselves that she was indeed a killer doll. We would lock her away in our closet at night and pray she wouldn't sneak out and follow through with her evil plan to kill all of us in our beds.
Then there was red headed Becky doll. She had red freckles all over her face. The weird part about Becky is that she was once a beloved doll in our lives. But then one day, we came to the conclusion (not sure why) that she was just as evil, if not more evil, then Yellowdee. I think this may have had something to do with her being put into the bath and coming out with a rats nest for hair.
These evil doll memories flooded back yesterday when Scarlett, at the tender age of two, ran into my room with the above doll, and exclaimed in a very worried voice "Mom! This is a mean baby!" And when I looked really deeply into this babies eyes...I had to agree.
