I’ve always loved dolls— dolls of every kind. I grew up with Barbie dolls, plastic babies, Lee Middleton figures and porcelain collectables. I would brush their hair, change their clothes and put them down for naps; but you would never know my love for them all because I never–NEVER–played with them.
I’m a perfectionist. You know that. Dolls were just one more thing for me to stuff in a box and “protect” from life’s many happenings.
My first American Girl doll was given to me by my beloved grandparents. She was a look-alike doll, whom I called “Courtney”. I received Felicity from a friend of my grandmother’s and Elizabeth from Grammy herself. My fourth American Girl was Mia, Girl of the Year 2008, and my fifth was Chrissa of 2009. My sixth and final doll was another look-alike, lovingly called “Lauren”.
All six of those dolls look brand new. Maybe I wasted away bits of my childhood by boxing them up (and hundreds and hundreds of dollars), but I never thought to do any different. I was “thinking ahead,” I guess, to a day when my dolls would be very, very old and yet, my own daughters would be able to appreciate them the way that I had.
Now… what’s the point of this post?
American Girl Mini Camp happened this week. It was so much fun. I had such a great time teaching alongside Ms. Jennifer and Hannah. Seeing Miss Bethanny was an added bonus (and I’ll be helping her next week, when Frozen Mini Camp rolls around).
All in all, besides lots of smiles, laughs and tulle (We made tutus– oh, yes.), this week proved to be a walk down memory lane. I wouldn’t have chosen to spend the last three days in any other way.
And now, I must practice my variation because those Russians aren’t going to break in themselves.