Around mid-December I fell into a frenzy of emailing pretty much any manufacturer of any product I could think of, in hopes of having free shit sent to me. I received so many wonderful, and so many useless pieces of bric-a-brac, that I forgot all about my request to own an African American breastfeeding doll, until it arrived at my place of business in a huge box that actually had the words "breast milk" right on it.
The Breast Milk Baby is apparently the world's first breastfeeding baby doll, and is intended to teach children about the merits of breastfeeding. When it first came out, it caused quite a stink, and after holding its hollow plastic noggin to my fake, magnetized booby for a few minutes, I'd have to say that I'm not okay with it either.
The Breast Milk Baby comes in unfortunate looking white girl, unfortunate looking white boy, happy Asian girl, happy Asian boy, calm and collected African American boy, and calm and collected African American girl. I chose the African American boy because all the other dolls (aside from his sister, but ew, who wants a little girl) looked like they were experiencing an inner insanity of some sort.
I took the box containing my new boob sucker home, and it sat unopened on my living room floor until last night, when my gf and I came home from seeing the ACTION PACKED Gangster Squad, and decided to crack it open. I'm thinking that seeing Ryan Gosling shoot people just made us feel like pretending to lactate.
The box and inclosed instruction booklet is written in gibberish, but we gathered that after putting three AAA batteries in the thing, you then strapped on this weird felt bib with magnetized stars where nipples would be, and then held the baby up to one of them to feed. There are ribbons tied to the nipple bib, one pink, and one blue, and they look like they're for something, but we don't know what. Also, calm and collected African baby, who we re-named Elvis, had this funny little tassle near his crotch area that I couldn't help but wonder was intended to very safely imply "penis."
Here's a list of the thoughts that came into our heads while breastfeeding this baby, in order:
1) This feels illegal.
2) It's vibrating, I bet kids try to diddle themselves with this.
3) Holy shit, do babies really eat for this long?
4) I'm bored.
5) Imagine doing heroin and then nursing a kid. People do that. Pieces of trash.
Elvis nursed and nursed forever, and when we would pull it away from our star nipples, it would cry until we burped it, which we couldn't figure out how to do at first, but then I accidentally figured it out by pounding the shit out of its back. It ramps up to a burp by making a series of squeaks, and then unleashed a Homer SImpson-esque belch that, for me, was the best part of the experience.
We played with Elvis for roughly 20 minutes total, and then put it in my reading chair. It's still there right now. God knows what it's doing. Being gross probably.
I don't think little kids should have to worry about breastfeeding. There's plenty of time to think about that, and how it's done. I'd like to never have to think of it at all, ever again, ever.