Bondage Barbie and Karma Sutra Ken

My daughters have always been into Barbies. I love it when they get a new one. All pristine and shiny, wrapped up in a box, yellow hair tidy and neat (gripped and attached to the inside by those razor sharp plastic teeth which takes a strong woman and a sharp pair of scissors to remove), tiny clothes pretty and clean (the skirt a touch to short, the blouse a little too tight)
And after we have removed her from her box (which can take several hours depending on how many small plastic covered pieces of wire she is secured by) there she stands (supported) in all her glory. A brand new Barbie!
I leave my daughter and her new friend to become acquainted, and for the new Barbie to meet all the old Barbies, and I close the door quietly on dreams of my daughter dressing them, brushing their hair, fitting little shoes on tiny feet. They will go to tea parties, walk their little plastic dogs in the park, sit on their plastic sofas and watch plastic TV. Eat brightly painted plastic food with a plastic knife and fork.
Is this what happens in other houses?
Here is what happens in ours:
I find Headless Barbie, submerged in a basin of water in the bathroom, clothes sodden and molded to her improbable body
And look! There is Bondage Barbie, naked and shackled, tied to the bedpost, a look of defeat on her pen-marked face.
And over there? Oh can you see? Someone has found the scissors and cut off all of Barbie's long yellow hair. Poor Bald Barbie won't find a boyfriend now!
And snuggled side by side on the plastic sofa, unable to change the channel on the plastic TV, sit Armless Ken and and Hands-Free Barbie.
Why, I ask myself? Is it some elaborate game of make-believe? Is Barbie sitting with her hands tied behind her back because she has been kidnapped by evil terrorists and is just waiting for Ken to come up with the ransom money? Will there be a tearful reunion and a Happy Ever After?
Or is my daughter into bondage for beginners? Start with Barbies, move onto plush toys and end up chaining neighborhood friends to the fence, all for the fun of it?
We will be monitoring this child's development closely, in hope and anticipation that she will grow out of this phase, but never-the-less fully prepared to call in professional help if and when needed!

A friend just read this blog and commented that her daughter used to baptize her Barbies, which I thought was wonderful!
I then thought of introducing Bondage Barbie to Born Again Barbie ... and came up with this:

Bondage Barbie: Hi
Born Again Barbie: Hey! How are you today?
Bondage Barbie: Oh, you know ... not feeling too good really.
B.A.B: Why is that?
B.B: Well ... I feel as though I'm missing out on something. I just feel empty, you know? As if there is something out there but I just can't reach it.
B.A.B: You need Jesus in your heart
B.B: We have hearts? I thought we were just made of plastic
B.A.B: Don't split hairs ... you know what I mean!
B.B: But how do I get this Jesus? What do I have to do?
B.A.B: You have to ask Him to come and be your friend. Just tell him you're sorry for all the bad things you've done, and that you want to start afresh.
B.B: All the bad things?
B.A.B: Yep!
B.B: Like when I tied Ken to a tree?
B.A.B: Er, yes.
B.B: And when I stole Swimsuit Barbies favorite bikini?
B.A.B: Mmhmm (nods enthusiastically)
B.B: And when I ripped off Singing Barbies head?
B.A.B. (paling slightly) If you are truly sorry, Jesus will forgive you all these things.
B.B: OK! I want to do it! I want Jesus in my heart.
They pray the sinners prayer together, and hug.
As they walk off, arm in arm, conspiratorially:
B.A.B: You might want to think about lowering the hem-line on that dress. And maybe breast reduction surgery?

And so begins a beautiful friendship