With Dolls

At about this time last year I decided (given the acquisition of #970) it was time to relieve my parents of my accumulated personal effects that (over the course of three decades) took hold in their basement. That collection included the dolls shown in the picture below. I bought them when I was a kid with money that was given to me or that I earned babysitting (that started when I was 11; back in the good old days). When my daughters saw the dolls they begged to have them and I relented.


They're not valuable, not even in sentimental terms. I guess that's why giving the dolls to two children aged nearly 5 and 3 years was ok. Given their ages, I knew their clothes would get lost, their faces would get painted, their hair would get cut, and (too soon for anybody's business) the girls would abandon them. Knowing this would happen, I took a picture of the kids with the dolls and promised myself that I would stay out of their way--it has been a full year since then.

Dandelion named her doll 'Theresa', Star chose the name 'Molly Polly'.

I was right about what would happen to the dolls. Theresa and Molly Polly have been put through the mill (more or less). I'm happy that the girls still play with them. When they do, something usually breaks.



And when it does, I tell the girls "Molly Polly needs surgery" or "Theresa needs therapy." Then down to the basement we go (that's the dolly ER) where the glue waits for us. In the past year both dolls have sustained numerous and serious injuries to their feet, ankles, and shins. Each time I've reconstructed them with care (although some pieces are lost forever). By now, those kinds of injuries have become run of the mill. They make Molly Polly's decapitation or the time she got scalped seem so much more exciting.