Toys

There are few things that I am as sentimental about as the toys I played with as a kid. Fortunately, I have parents who are equally nostalgic, and as a result, many of my toys have survived. They kept my Sunshine Family Dolls,



my Wizard of Oz Dolls,



the doll house my grandfather made, my favorite sock monkey, George, as well as my beloved Sasha doll.


I have such strong memories associated with each of these toys; I am practically transported back to my childhood simply by holding one of them. And for the lost toys, I have spent hours on ebay searching: for the Freakies Cereal plastic figurines I coveted, the Fisher price farm whose door moo-ed when you opened it, and for the "lemon twist" contraption I spun around my ankle in the summertime.

Ever since starting this project, I have begun to look at my girls' toys differently. For one thing, they LOVE the Littlest Pet Shop creatures. Until now, I have tolerated those bug-eyed bobble headed critters in the same way I suffer the Polly Pockets, the Cabbage Patch kids, and all of the assorted noisy accoutrements to their respective babyhoods. But yesterday, I sat down with the girls and played with the Littlest Pet Shop puppies and snails and frogs and, for the first time, I saw the allure. For one thing, they have tiny little things that belong to each of them: lemonade stands, and tiny houses, even a miniature dance floor replete with a disco ball. The girls have given them each a name and a personality. And it struck me yesterday, I would have LOVED these ridiculous little things as a kid.

I guess now I am responsible for insuring that they too survive the rigors of my kids' play...and wind up in their mailboxes thirty years from now, preserved and ready to elicit all sorts of sweet memories.