The Dolls In My Past

Yesterday was a day of stunning revelation for me. We cleaned out what remained in our shed at our old house. This included the bassinet that all four boys slept in as infants and a box of my dolls from childhood. I very carefully set up the bassinet and decided to lay my dolls in it for safekeeping. Suddenly it struck me! My dolls were very decidedly male, or at least the ones that survived up to the present day. I made sure that my Mom was aware of this new information, since she was primarily responsible for my doll collection. I just have to wonder if this was some kind of foretelling of my future. The picture that you see here is of my two favorites. Does anyone else remember when every little girl had to have a Cabbage Patch doll or life just wasn't worth living. My parents did their Christmas shopping a little late that year so all that was left were boy Cabbage Patch dolls. His name was Xavier, at least that's what the box said. I named him Jaylen. The other dolls name is Joey. My Aunt Barbara gave him to me one year when she came to visit. My parents convinced me that I must take good care of him since he came from Belgium. I don't know if that is true or not, but he did survive quite well. There was also the doll that was supposed to be the same size as a one year old. He actually started off as a girl. The problem was that he/she had a long red ponytail that grew when you pulled a string on his/her back. We had lots of fun with her until the neighbor girl stuffed the ponytail into the hole it originated from. After that I just dressed him like a boy. Now the fact that the first doll I remember had red hair and was rather stocky must have some significance.

Now I must clarify that I did have some girl dolls, but I also had cousins. Since they are some of my fellow bloggers and can defend themselves, I will tell of the destruction that they heaped upon my dolls. First there was Kimberly, she never really played with her dolls much. They were used more for decoration and she always informed me that she didn't want them to get messed up. Well you should see what she did to the ankles of my Barbie Dolls by making them dance so wildly that their hair would swoosh around. I don't have a picture, but you can imagine how those poor rubber legs looked after being bent so violently in every direction. Next came Liz, whose Mom was working for a surgeon at the time. She took a black marker and made a nice little mid-line incision, complete with staples, down the belly of my little cloth doll. I have found it in my heart to forgive them, but now you understand why the only survivors are boys. The only conclusion that I can come to is that I was just made to nurture boys whether they be plastic and cloth or flesh and blood.

Note of Concern

Landon has taken quite an interest in the dolls that are now in our home. As you can imagine this is stressing Harold to immeasurable limits. His reaction when Landon tried to take the doll on a ride in the van was to be remembered. Last night Landon walked out of the guest room and informed us that he was "putting music on so the babies could sleep", I think Harold's eyes might still be rolling. Do you think that the fact that the dolls are boys makes any difference, or will I have to box them up and store them away again?