Nadia's Doll

I watched as a little girl played with a beat up old nekkid, scraggly doll while she waited on line. It got me to thinking, and inspired this little tale.

Nadia wakes up in the morning, and goes looking for her doll, only to discover once again, she is scrunched in the far corner of the bed, as if trying to escape her grasp. The child tunnels under the bed sheets until she is able to grab the doll by a foot, and pulls it into daylight. A quick hug, and then Nadia throws the doll onto her pillow and goes to wash up.

Still dripping from her shower, Nadia hugs the doll, leaving a faint dampness on its body. As Nadia dresses, she chatters, as if expecting an answer from the doll. Nadia puts on her shoes, and realizes that once again, she's forgotten how to tie her shoe laces. So she grabs her doll by its hair, and they head downstairs, careful not to tread on the trailing shoe laces.

Nadia's mom ties her shoelaces, lecturing her to pay more attention. Nadia is too busy trying to give the doll a proper hairdo, and manages to ignore her mother's words. Cereal is poured, and Nadia attempts to feed the doll, who wants no part of either Count Chocula or the chocolate milk that it creates.

Time for nursery school. Nadia grabs the doll by a finger, and whips her into her school bag, stuffing all its limbs into the overflowing backpack. Off to school. Nadia holds the back pack on her lap, talking to the doll through the canvas fabric, ignoring any chance of human interaction.

School time, and Nadia gingerly opens the back pack, removing the doll ever so slowly. Smiling, together they sit at a table, coloring. Nadia tries out a shade of dark blue on the doll's foot, just to see if it looks good there. It doesn't, and she tries, unsuccessfully, to wipe it off. When it remains where she placed it, Nadia slams her doll into the table, hoping that will cause the crayon to disappear. It doesn't, and she begins to cry.

School is over, and Nadia waits for her mom to pick her up. She has not placed the doll into her back pack, which she is wearing on her back. Instead, she is holding the doll by its hair, and is staring madly at the blue crayon on the doll's foot. When her mom arrives, Nadia tells her that another child colored on her doll.

Dinner time, and Nadia sits at the table, the doll seated on her lap. She tries again to feed the doll, this time, spaghetti o's and succeeds only in making the doll's mouth an odd shade of orange. After dinner, Nadia and her doll play a game. Nadia holds the doll by its hair, and swings it around, releasing it to watch it fly.

Bedtime, and Nadia and her doll are tucked in by mom. Nadia holds the doll tightly, as if it will keep away any possible nightmare or ogre. Slowly, she falls asleep, releasing the doll, allowing it to make its nightly attempt to escape by crawling to the bottom of the bed.

And such is the life of a doll.