A Collection of Porcelain Dolls
How I Accidentally Threatened My Daughter with Haunted Decor
Let Me Set the Scene…
Once upon a time, in a house full of love, clutter, and cats, my late mother-in-law gifted me a collection of porcelain dolls. You know the ones, painted lips, delicate bonnets, perfectly brushed curls…and the kind of glassy-eyed stare that follows you through a room like a judgmental church lady.
At the time, she was still alive and very proud of those dolls. So, what did I do?
I displayed them proudly, of course, like a supportive daughter-in-law with a slightly spooked-out daughter.
Enter: Heather, my grown daughter, a strong, capable woman… who is utterly and unapologetically terrified of one thing:
Porcelain dolls coming to life. She saw it in a movie when she was a teenager. In my day, there were sharks in the water. (You know, from Jaws.)
The Collection That Wouldn’t Die
I never thought much about the dolls. They kind of faded into the background, like the popcorn ceiling or that one drawer of random batteries. But to Heather, these dolls weren’t just décor.
They were waiting.
She’d visit and side-eye the doll shelf like she was passing a row of evil toddlers on time out. If one had their head tilted slightly differently (probably due to dusting), she’d jump like someone had whispered her name in an empty room.
Recently, she asked me, very seriously, “Not to be insensitive, but now that Bonnie’s gone… when are you going to SELL those things?”
Heather’s Worst Nightmare: Becoming Roommates with “The Dolls”
Here’s the kicker: Heather and I are looking at houses so we can move in together. 🏡
And I know exactly how to keep her humble during this process.
Whenever she gets a little too picky about a kitchen layout or rolls her eyes at a carpet color, I smile sweetly and say: “You know, I was thinking the dolls might look great on the fireplace mantle…”
The horror in her eyes is better than any cup of coffee.
Susie the Dog Has Picked a Side
Susie, Heather’s loyal dog and personal shadow, used to bark at the dolls. Now?
She just stares at them like she knows something. Traitor.
If the dolls ever do rise up, I’m 99% sure Susie’s survival plan involves hiding behind Heather and pretending to be a throw pillow.
To Sell or Not to Sell… That Is the Creepy Question
Do I plan to keep them forever? Honestly, I’m not sure.
Do I enjoy having a subtle form of psychological leverage over my child? Oh, absolutely.
So, for now, the dolls remain in their glassy-eyed glory, watching, waiting, occasionally dusted, and 100% ready to pack up and move with us.
Unless Heather finds a house with a doll-free clause in the contract.
Final Thoughts: Who’s Really in Charge Here?
Maybe one day I’ll let the dolls go. But for now, they’re family. And if that means my grown daughter walks a little faster past the living room, well…
Let’s just call it a bonding experience.
After all, nothing says mother-daughter love quite like shared rent and a shared fear of a haunted Victorian child named “Isabelle.”
If You’re Still Reading… Watch Your Back.
Kidding.
Probably. 😏
It’s Your Turn!
Now it’s time to spill your tea:
Do porcelain dolls give you the heebie-jeebies, too? Did your family ever pass down something terrifyingly sentimental to which you couldn’t say no? Or maybe you’ve got your own “roommate from the underworld” story (child, pet, in-law…I don’t judge).
👇 Drop your stories in the comments! Let’s bond over the things that go bump in the curio cabinet.
