I’d have settled instead for a lifetime of loathing the gift giver for presenting my child with such a loud toy.īefore presenting my grandsons with a gift, I always keep Laughing Baby in mind and remember the Rule of Ls: Never give a gift that is loud, large or luxurious without asking for permission from the parents first. If Laughing Baby had been a gift from one of my daughter’s grandparents, though, the guilt from surgically removing the giggle box would have been far too much for me. Thankfully, as gift-giver I had the right to render the giggly doll silent. The only person I had to blame for the madness was myself-I was the idiot who purchased Laughing Baby. Laughing Baby’s laughter was driving me mad.
One night while my daughter slept, I carefully ripped open Laughing Baby’s seam, ripped out her laughing box, and quickly sewed her shut. Then it was simply obnoxious and in need of silencing. We called it “Laughing Baby,” because when the doll’s tummy was pressed, she’d let loose an infectious giggle that would set my daughter into giggle fits galore. The Christmas my middle daughter was about 4 years old, she received the most adorable, soft-bodied baby doll.
