Krauthead*. A love story in two parts.

*I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone with this term.  I like German people, and I especially German food.  They make the best fried potatoes.  And those little dumpling things are to die for.  Anyway...  I also mean no disrespect to anyone out there who may be named Krauthead.  I feel bad for you, but I don's disrespect you.  This is a name I came up with at the tender age of nine when I was sad that I couldn't have a "real" Cabbage Patch Doll.  Nine year olds are not generally known for their creativity, and to me, kraut was just rotten cabbage.  So there.

Part One:
I grew up in the 80's, and around the time I was eight or so, Cabbage Patch Dolls exploded onto the scene.  Actually, they probably exploded years before that, but growing up on a farm in the middle of nowhere with few neighbors and no stores and two channels does not lend itself to being on the cutting edge of toy acquisition.  My friend Karen was the first person who I actually knew who had one.  And actually, she had - GASP! - two of them.  I wanted one.  Bad.  I begged and begged and begged for one for my upcoming ninth birthday.  Of course, and the time, I really had no concept of money, and I didn't realize that we were dirt poor.  Like the Clampetts, before the oil incident.

Around the same time, a lady in our community began to make a homemade version of these dolls that she sold for a fraction of the cost of the real ones.  So ninth birthday comes, and voila! Krauthead came to me, in all her stuffed glory.

I loved her.  I really did.  But it was a grudging sort of love, given only because she was MINE.  Over time, I came to love her completely, sort of like an arranged marriage gone right scenario.  At one point, in  bit of pre-teen angst, I cut her hair in a spike and pierced her ears 17 times.  Madonna and Cyndi Lauper were my heroes, and Krauthead came along for the ride.  K and I, we understood each other.  Finally.

When I went out into the world to seek my fortune, I brought Krauthead along.  I had removed the many earrings by then, and dressed her in a dress  that was mine when I was a baby.  She lived on my bed, or occasionally under it, until she finally found a permanent home in our guest room.

Part Two:
Fast forward a few dozen years or so.  I am a respectable stay at home Mama with two adorable children, one of whom had taken up in an unnatural and uncomfortable relationship with my slipper.  Cj was spending WAY too much time loving it, hugging it, kissing it - you get the picture.  Weird, huh?  Until one day, in a fit of brilliance, I grabbed Krauthead and pried the slipper out of his mouth exchanged it for the slipper.

It was love at first sight.

They immediately became inseparable, and has all but forgotten his unhealthy obsession with my slipper.  I've even been able to wear them again without fear of molestation.

I am seeing a joy here that I have never before seen on my Buddha-baby's face.  

He is completely, utterly, totally smitten.

I am hesitant to be too forward-thinking about this, but an occasional vision of toting Krauthead to the doctor's office, or the sitter's house, or to middle school graduation crosses my mind.

But I can't think about it too much.  

Because my baby has found his soulmate, and Krauthead is finally getting the love she deserves.

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