“Mommy,” she calls out as I try to simultaneously dress a chicken and chop up broccoli. “What does it say on the opameal box?”
“But there’s no P.”
“Mommy,” she says as we’re getting in the car after gymnastics. “My American Girl doll has a hard time hearing.”
“Does she?” I reply, waving goodbye to one of the moms.
“Yes. She needs hearing aids.” Now, I know full well why this doll needs hearing aids. It needs hearing aids because my friend’s daughter – a girl my daughter adores, admires, and aspires to become – has hearing aids. So her doll just got hearing aids. Perforce our damned doll needs hearing aids.
But I decide to for once avoid the N word. “You know what? We can get your doll hearing aids.”
“Yes, because she can’t hear what I say. And I’m usually telling her what she needs to do.”