Baby Doll

Published in Sweet Literary, Nov. 26, 2025

The time you wanted a baby doll with a button nose and pink cheeks. The time your dad hid bottles of scotch behind the washing machine. The time your mom said baby dolls were for big girls. The time your dad drove away, honking. The time you got a doll that was big and floppy with a stitched-on smile. The time your older sister got her appendix out and your mom bought her a doll with frosted lips and light green eye shadow. The time you gouged out the doll’s eye and denied it. The time your dad came back with red and white carnations. The time the phone rang for your sister. The time you kissed a stuttering boy who liked you. The time your mom said Get out to your dad and meant it. The time you realized how dumb it was to want a baby doll. The time the phone rang for your sister. The time your mom wore leotards and did Jane Fonda. The time you got your period and didn’t tell anyone. The time the phone rang for your sister. The time you filled an empty tennis ball can with scotch. The time Tommy Newsome smiled at you. The time you got Jordache jeans. The time the phone rang for you. The time you were popular for two full months. The time your sister was the Homecoming Queen. The time your mom’s new boyfriend slept over and made gloopy pancakes. The time you drank too much. The time you drank too much. The time you drank too much. The time your fat melted away. The time you thought you saw your dad eating a hot dog at Costco. The time you stopped drinking. The time you picked it up again. The time you stopped drinking. The time you fell in love for the first time. The time your mom squinted at you and said, “I’m sorry, but who are you?” The time you gave your daughter a baby doll. The time you moved your mom into a home. The time you gave your mom a baby doll. The time she cradled it in her arms, said Baby, oh my baby.

---