When we lost our favorite teacher at daycare, I knew there would be some speed bumps in Alexis' life. I correctly predicted that nap time would go to hell in a hand basket without a BFF there to use as a pillow. I knew she would end up going hungry much more frequently without someone to slip her some illegal Goldfish crackers in the afternoon. I figured I should expect a new round of questioning and mass confusion regarding the whole "she knows over 150 signs and isn't afraid to use them" thing. What I didn't expect is that her replacement would be a giant pain in my arse.

Michelle was replaced last night at approximately 8:00 pm in the doll aisle at Wal-Mart. (Don't send me hate email about the Wal-Mart thing, I already know it is the axis of evil, the mouth of hell, and the cause for all that is wrong in this world. The darn place is just too convenient to ignore.) We walked down the aisle as we were headed to Health and Beauty when Alexis saw her. Baby Shell.

Alexis stopped dead in her tracks, squealed "BABY SHELL!" at the top of her lungs, and picked up the ginormous, cumbersome box. "I get Baby Shell," she said. No "Please?" No "Can I?" It just was. I tried to see if perhaps she wanted to consider one of the other dolls but apparently I am an idiot because that doll IS Baby Shell and there is no other doll on this planet worthy of Alexis' attention. Alexis drug the doll, box and all, all around the store and to the front register, hugging it close and giving it smooches on the head the whole time.

So we took the Toddler and her new best friend home and learned that she planned to drag that doll EVERYWHERE, including to bed. Whatever. No big deal. Until she woke up at 6:00.

It is customary for the Toddler to wander over to our bed when she wakes up on the weekend so that she can get up in our bed and either be one with a pillow for a little while longer or be one with a bunch of crazed furry puppets. Either option is totally acceptable, just so long as it means Mr. Husband and I get to enjoy a little bit more of that thing people who don't have kids call sleep. This morning, Alexis showed up at her appointed hour grasping Baby Shell in her arms. I plopped them both into our bed and waited to see if she was going to go to sleep or hang with Elmo and Zoe for an hour.

The answer was none of the above.

"Milk, please."

"I don't have any milk, Alexis. Here's some water."

"NO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Baby Shell wan milk."

Off trudges Mr. Husband to fetch Baby Shell's accessory bottle of milk.

"Dank you!" the Toddler said as she shoved the plastic bottle up the doll's nose.

"BABY SHELL'S BWANKA!"

"Huh?"

"BWANKA! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Blanket?"

"Yeah. WAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Off trudges little ol' me to find something to pass as Baby Shell's blanket since she didn't come with that handy accessory. I return with a little Dora blanket.

"Dank you!" the Toddler said as she tucked Baby Shell in under the blanket.

"TOP IT! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the Toddler screamed as Meg shifted her weight two inches to the left, placing her stinky booty dangerously close to Baby Shell.

"Meg, move. Alexis doesn't want you by her baby."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I don't really know what the major malfunction was that time because my brain exploded before the second 'A' could find it's way out of the kid's mouth. This whole "nurturing" thing went on for over an hour. That's a whole hour that I could have spent sleeping, but didn't.

Real life Shell, I blame you. If you hadn't left the land of daycare bliss, Alexis wouldn't have replaced you, and I would have gotten some sleep this morning. I'm plotting my revenge right this moment.

Hmmm . . . this doll is still for sale . . . Perhaps Michelle's daughter would like it for her birthday.

(BTW, Michelle, this Baby Shell looks NOTHING like the other Baby Shell. For one, it has clothes on.)