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| See? Adorable! |
How come my sister had one?!
Why couldn’t I have one?!
Life isn’t fair!!!
Maybe I should explain . . .
The Christmas I was one, my big sister got a doll.
Well, to be honest, so did I.
But hers was amazing.
Dressed in a gorgeous pink satin dress with tiny white socks
and adorable little shoes, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
She had Auburn hair, like my sister and a cute little face with eyes that
opened and shut.
AND SHE COULD WALK!!!
No word of a lie. If you held onto her hands, she could
walk!
She was perfect.
Now, I must admit that I recognized none of this when the
doll first appeared in our household.
My recognition of her perfection happened a few years later.
When I discovered this treasure sitting in lonely glory on
my sister’s bed.
Did I mention lonely?
Now there’s something I should probably point out here: there
were two things I could not stand to see when I was little.
1.
A naked doll. (Just imagine how cold they must
be!)
2.
A lonely doll. (Oh, the poor thing!)
Okay, yes, I had issues, but I was nothing if not
sympathetic. A lonely doll was just asking to be played with. Even if one had
been told – many times – to LEAVE MY DOLL ALONE IT'S JUST TO LOOK AT!!!
Pfff. That was just silly. Why would anyone have a toy they didn't play with?!
I scoped out the neighbourhood, than scooped the treasure
off the bed and proceeded to walk her all over.
Do you know how many baby steps it was from one side of my
sister’s room to the other?
A lot.
We played happily for some time.
Or at least until discovered by my sister.
Usually said discovery was in the form of: “Mom! Diane’s got
my doll again!”
Whereupon (good word) I would answer from somewhere under
the bed: “Do not!”
This went on for months.
Until I discovered that one could actually buy horse models.
Of every colour and breed.
And in all different sizes.
After that, my sister’s little beauty remained in lonely
glory on the bed.
And the sisterly conversation in her room changed to: “Mom!
Diane’s got her horses all over my floor again!”
And me, again from under the bed: “Do not!”
Sigh.
Allie had a baby obsession for years that has now moved onto to horses. What is a pack of a hundred horses called? Allie's room :)
ReplyDeleteBwahahahaha! Perfect!
DeleteI think I would have gone for the horse models as well.
ReplyDeleteKindred Spirits, Delores. Kindred Spirits!
DeleteLove this! I wish I had a sister but I was cursed with only 3 much older brothers and they didn't have cute dolly's to play with. But I did get to play dolls with their girlfriends. :)
ReplyDeleteCursed with 3 older brothers?! How did you survive?! Heehee. Brothers' girlfriends, especially those trying to impress said brothers, can be counted on to do so many things . . . :)
DeleteMy sister got a life sized, walking doll for Christmas one year, when she was maybe three. She got up to check on Santa and my brothers, from their room, told her to go back to sleep. She did, in dad's chair, with the doll. She still didn't realize there was a doll in that chair until after breakfast, when it was present time.
ReplyDeleteHeehee! She sounds as observant as me! Remind me to tell you about my Christmas Chest sometime . . .
DeleteSo funny!!! My sisters and I always competed over our dolls, too. But then I got into collecting the horses and loved it!
ReplyDeleteAha! Another horse collector! I knew it!!! :)
DeleteI was a doll-lover but our daughter was a horse-lover who collected model horses like you did. That's what her allowance went toward for many years and she had many, many hours of enjoyment playing with them!
ReplyDeleteI do think your daughter and I would get along so well!
DeleteI had one of those walking dolls! With dark brown curls and a blue net dress with silver sparkles glued on to it. She got very grubby with constant playing so one day I tossed the dress in the washing machine as the sheets were getting done. In hot, hot, water. That dress was a rag after and my doll was near naked for many years. did your sister's doll have a "voicebox" that said mama when you tipped her up?
ReplyDeleteP.S. I never understood the passion for horses. All the girls in school were crazy about horses. or boys. I liked motorbikes.
ReplyDelete