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I like to believe I’m immune to impulse purchases, though temptation wins more often than I care to admit. A friend calls herself “a sucker for a pretty face.” My weakness is anything—or anyone—that makes me laugh.

That explains how a tiny, cheerful male doll followed me home from a random store.

A sign on his chest invited shoppers to press him. Despite a lifetime of reminders to keep my hands to myself, I pushed the button. The little fellow immediately began saying things husbands have seemingly avoided since the dawn of recorded history.

He claimed the ballgame wasn’t important and that he would rather spend time with his wife. Then he admitted he didn’t know where he was going and suggested stopping to ask for directions.

Already unlikely. But he was just getting started.

He offered up the remote control, insisting he didn’t care what was on television as long as they watched together. Then came the line that finished me: He wondered whether his mother-in-law could stay another week.

By then, I was howling as more restrained shoppers stared and quietly judged. Covering my mouth only made matters worse. They may have suspected illness, nausea or some sudden emotional crisis.

I hurried to the checkout counter, dodged the suspicious looks and bought the doll. Now, whenever I need a laugh, I press my little plastic boyfriend’s chest and let him talk.

My wisecracking friend is holding out for an upgraded version. She wants one that asks whether she has lost weight, volunteers to handle the laundry and announces that his mother thinks he was lucky to marry her.

That last one may be the most far-fetched doll line of all.

The “perfect man” gag is as old-school as relationships themselves, but this little fellow produced my biggest laugh since my then-3-year-old discovered a tub of chocolate frosting.