Sister's Dolly

See? Adorable!

How come my sister had one?!

And why couldn’t I?!

Life wasn’t fair!!!

Maybe I should explain . . .

For my first Christmas, 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.