Toy Story

There was a very very large package under our tree last Christmas. It wasn't the first present that Maizie opened. My own present-opening strategy would have been to start with the biggest first, but she started with the small boxes under the tree. When she had opened the last book, she looked at the penguin wrapped tower in front of her, not sure if it was really a present or not. David and I had been tittering with barely concealed anticipation, while she slowly went through the small stack. We managed to wait patiently without blurting out, "JUST OPEN THE BIG ONE ALREADY!!!".

The moment finally arrived. She tore off the paper and paused a moment. "It's a house for all my dolls". She scurried away, returning with an armful of princesses.

My favorite present as a child was the dollhouse that my father had made. Wendy and I played with it for longer than any self respecting twelve year old would admit. Watching Maizie, open her's started the deja vu's rolling in.

Waiting patiently upstairs in our attic were the boxes of doll furniture, from that Christmas over 30 years ago. Maizie helped me bring them down stairs, now her time to be tittering with excitement. We unpacked kitchen appliances. She exclaimed over tiny pots and pans. Furniture had to be placed just right. I cleaned the pieces while she played, smiling. I had found a time machine back to my childhood.

Not everyone was as happy as Maizie and I that morning. My own dolls, stripped of their clothes for washing, watched homeless piled on the side lines, while Cinderella and her pals settled into their house.

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