Raggedy Ann

Kate has finally warmed to my old Raggedy Ann doll. Just as I did at her age, she carries Raggedy around by a strand of yarn hair, which has elongated to the point that when being carried by it, Raggedy drags behind on the floor. Caveman Kate hardly notices. Raggedy seldom leaves the house, although she's been to the park once. But when Kate's home, she generally likes to have Raggedy in tow. This morning Kate was standing in the kitchen with her doll, waiting for me to produce oatmeal. I make it from rolled oats because the instant stuff never comes out the way I like it, so this is kind of a lengthy process. Ten minutes instead of 2. So, anyway, because she doesn't know there's such a thing as instant oatmeal Kate doesn't mind. She was holding Raggedy by the hair, standing between the wall to her left and a cabinet to her right. She began swinging Raggedy back and forth between the two obstacles. Each time Raggedy hit a surface with a loud "thwap!" Kate said "OUCH!"

At first I was managing to just ignore her and let her play while I stirred oats (with just a pinch of cinnamon). But after a short while I was so unable to divorce the scene from the one in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the wretched woman in rags stands in the background, beating a cat against the wall like a rug with a resounding "MREOW" with each hit, that I found myself laughing out loud. It only spurs her on. "I'm funny, too!" She says.