By now, everyone in the Barbie world should have read my partner-in-blog's hub about the history of the Barbie Dream House. Sometimes that woman is so thorough, it's scary! Anyway, I supplied her with a pic of my Dream House, circa 1980, that I have kept through at least five moves (and obviously more than 30 years). We rebuilt it two years ago for my daughter, who appreciated the sentiment more than the actual house.
It now resides in the playroom, functioning as a repository for random dolls, clothes, and furniture.
When my daughter was younger, I used to try to interest her in playing with my old dolls by telling her stories of the mischief the dolls would get up to while she was asleep. I'm not sure exactly what these dolls have been up to, but it must have been one hell of a party.
Seriously -- who rides a motorcycle into the second story of a house? And who is strong enough to upend a treadmill on top of it? Maybe Ken is suffering from 'roid rage. He seems to have gone through several dazed and naked Barbies, too. I swear, the next time I hear strange noises in the playroom, I'm going to catch them at it!
I especially like that we can see the reflection of the bare bosom of the unabashed one in the vanity mirror. Also, the brunette on the bed has a pillow atop her as if she needed protection from someone. Ken?! I never knew he had it in him!
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