Ramona and I made her tonight.
I was going to work, but Ramona was sprawled so pitifully on the floor, lamenting that no one would play with her, that Betsy would never, ever play Science People with her, and that she had nothing to do, and no one to do it with, and, really, wasn't her life just a hopeless, lonely mess?
Honestly, I took pity on this poor, spoiled child. Because, even though I'm sure we do spoil her terribly, sometimes it really is hard to be six years old and have sisters who are 12 and 15, whose interests have changed and are ever-changing, sisters who don't want to play Science People all the time.
So, we made a Little House doll.
And Ramona skipped around the house the rest of the evening.
(p.s. On an entirely different subject ... someone emailed me today about the Writers Weekly piece that ran, but your email was inadvertently deleted ... please feel free to resend and I'll try to control my aggressive spam filter.)