1993 & Other Hazards

On my 12th birthday an inner demon my parents gave me a dollhouse.

The Davis Girl circa 1993.

This dollhouse:

The Greenleaf Dollhouse (Assembled).

I was stunned. What was this heinous box?

But there was something about this dollhouse. It came assembled and painted [Maroon siding with ivory gingerbread]. Even had flecks of furniture including the neatest bathtub with tiny brass faucets and a working chain and plug that went no where. 

In the cubby-sized kitchen, there was even a pint-sized table and on it a miniature cake with frosting that looked good enough to inhale. 

That sugar rose frosting looked so real.

So did the dollhouse. With its beady little windows and wide toothy porch.

And it scared the bejeezus out of me but I wasn't going to admit this to my parents. I was a pre-teen of the 90s! I was supposed to be all: 

Go Blossom, go Blossom, GO.

 and

Dream Phone: Setting mathletes on the path to disillusioned joy since 1989.

At first I pretended that I heard creaks and scratches coming from it, hopeful my parents would be terrified on my behalf and Remove It From The Premises Immediately. But when I told them, they laughed and made me unload the dishwasher. But I insisted I hadn't Gotten The Idea from anything.

Well, obviously.

But then, I-Swear-To-God I heard things coming from it. 

Maybe it was a mouse. 

Or our own house settling. 

Or my dog stretching.

Or nanobots eating the oxygen or whatever. 

But I swear that godforsaken demon-box was watching me so I turned it around like Clarissa did so it would be innards-out like a shelves instead. 

SIDENOTE: Sam *made* Nickelodeon. 

But nothing looked right in it, so I turned it back around a few days later and that's when that nasty top spindly piece stabbed me.

Nasty Top Spindly Piece

Ok, I probably poked myself on it but I'd swear shoebox hut of death bit me. I swear.

I swear I wasn't even that near it. I still have the scar. But really. A dollhouse bit me.

Which made me wonder: What in the world possessed my parents to buy me a dollhouse?

I now realize my parents saw me like:

Though in reality, I was like:

but secretly wanted to be:

The Davis Girl has Spoken. Mlyeah.

The moral of the story is don't look a gift dollhouse in the windows because it will just suck out your soul and leave you with a scar on your eyelid and an irrational fear of particle board.

#TrueStory