When I was growing up, my mom would crawl out of bed in the morning with her hair going one way and her nightgown the other. Then, hunched over and searching, shed feel her way into the kitchen, her arms outstretched and guiding. She was cute. Her squishy skin all creased from the sheets and her eyes swollen shut. Shed smile sweetly when she heard my sister and me at the table, giggling over our cereal.

I went to kindergarten at Sunnyland Elementary, a mere two blocks from my parents house. Im not aware of any famous Sunnyland alumnae who have walked on the moon or starred in their own reality show, but nonetheless it was a good school that did its best to produce decent citizens. Half of my teachers were exceptional, some dialed it in, and a few had one foot in the grave, including the school nurse, aptly named Mrs. Cross.

I never put a lot of stock in the idea that Barbie dolls promote negative body images for young girls. To think that adoring Barbie is going to cause my child to grow up expecting a size-0 waist and DDs is as ridiculous as thinking that shes one day going to expect her elbows to fuse into an L shape and that her head could pop off at will. Besides, Barbie isnt such a bad role model. Shes impeccably clean, fashionable and her makeup is always just right.