REMEMBER that favorite childhood toy of yours? Come on, take some time out to think about it. Forget about those papers that need to be filed for awhile. Focus on remembering that wonderful childhood toy.
Perhaps it was your very first BMX bike? Maybe Angel Face Barbie. Or a Magic Slate? A Voltes V toy (which may be worth thousands now)? Remember the good times you had with it. Remember how you felt playing with it.
And now, another question. If you were to give that toy as a Christmas present to someone, who would you give it to, and why? Who would you love to share those happy childhood memories with? Tell us about it. Share the love, share the happy memories. :)
This would be my answer. My favorite toy was a wooden doll house. It was very simple. The little beds and chairs were made of light wood, the house itself painted green. It was open on one side, as all dollhouses are, and the other side was the sturdy-looking home's exterior. It housed many imaginary families for me. It created many imaginary slumber parties in the little wooden rooms, triggered many meal creations in the little wooden kitchen.
There were no dolls to go with it. The family members were my own little fingers doing the walking and talking. I loved every minute of playtime with that little wooden doll house. I felt free, happy and thrilled creating plots of my own, creating my own little childlike telenovelas in my head. It was my house and I was free to create whatever happy stories I wanted in it.
If I were to share this doll house with someone, it would be with my future child. No, I am not pregnant, but I sure would love to have that old toy back and keep it safe until I begin a family of my own. With so many video games and gadgets grabbing the attention of children these days, a doll house like this could be easily dismissed. But if I make the time to present it to the child, just as my parents presented it to me, I know this gift will further spark a child's imagination and creativity.
I would love for that child to feel as free as I did when I was finger-walking across the wooden rooms, as happy and creative as I did when imaginary families started filling the wooden home up. I would love to share my happy memories, and hopefully create new and even happier ones.
December 2007 Archives
REMEMBER that favorite childhood toy of yours? Come on, take some time out to think about it. Forget about those papers that need to be filed for awhile. Focus on remembering that wonderful childhood toy.
Perhaps it was your very first BMX bike? Maybe Angel Face Barbie. Or a Magic Slate? A Voltes V toy (which may be worth thousands now)? Remember the good times you had with it. Remember how you felt playing with it.
And now, another question. If you were to give that toy as a Christmas present to someone, who would you give it to, and why? Who would you love to share those happy childhood memories with? Tell us about it. Share the love, share the happy memories. :)
This would be my answer. My favorite toy was a wooden doll house. It was very simple. The little beds and chairs were made of light wood, the house itself painted green. It was open on one side, as all dollhouses are, and the other side was the sturdy-looking home's exterior. It housed many imaginary families for me. It created many imaginary slumber parties in the little wooden rooms, triggered many meal creations in the little wooden kitchen.
There were no dolls to go with it. The family members were my own little fingers doing the walking and talking. I loved every minute of playtime with that little wooden doll house. I felt free, happy and thrilled creating plots of my own, creating my own little childlike telenovelas in my head. It was my house and I was free to create whatever happy stories I wanted in it.
If I were to share this doll house with someone, it would be with my future child. No, I am not pregnant, but I sure would love to have that old toy back and keep it safe until I begin a family of my own. With so many video games and gadgets grabbing the attention of children these days, a doll house like this could be easily dismissed. But if I make the time to present it to the child, just as my parents presented it to me, I know this gift will further spark a child's imagination and creativity.
I would love for that child to feel as free as I did when I was finger-walking across the wooden rooms, as happy and creative as I did when imaginary families started filling the wooden home up. I would love to share my happy memories, and hopefully create new and even happier ones.
"I still believe in Santa Claus, maybe that's just because I'm still a child at heart." -- NKOTBIt amazed me every Christmas morning to see my stocking filled with goodies. Or if the present were too big to fit into my stocking (!), Santa's presents would be neatly laid out on top of our family piano, or right next to my pillow. If I think back really hard, I can say it was one of the purest joys I've ever experienced. My most memorable present from Santa was a backpack in the shape of a teddy bear. When I'd wear the bag, it would look like I was carrying the brown bear on my back, its arms over my shoulders. I absolutely adored it. It wasn't something I asked for, but I do remember being awed with how Santa knew what I wanted. There were many other Santa presents, but that teddy bear backpack was the most magical for me. As third grade hit however, my classmates told me that there's no such thing as Santa. I refused to believe them, but still my heart broke at the idea that someone else was playing his role. It upset me terribly. I did not give up hope though, I continued to write to him for two more years. With each year however, the magic waned and the signs that he may not be real after all started settling in. Sometimes I wonder if there really is a Santa Claus. St. Nicholas, yes, he existed. But I wonder about that Santa Claus from the North Pole, with the jolly built and deep laugh. I wonder from time to time if there is such a thing as his toy workshop, with elves gleefully putting wooden toys together, with reindeer watching enthusiastically from outside. And then Mrs. Claus would come in with glasses of apple cider, and Santa's cheeks would redden further. It doesn't hurt to wonder. It doesn't hurt to imagine. And so even if reality would tell me otherwise, well, I still believe in Santa Claus.
I HAVE good memories of our family Christmas tree.
It was the constant in all our Christmas decorations as I was growing up. The trimmings and the balls would change according to the theme of the year, but the tall green plastic tree would be the family Christmas classic.
There are many pictures of my sisters and myself, holding silver sparkles and fringes, hanging candy canes made of plastic glass and spraying the plastic leaves with fake snow. My Dad documented a lot of those young Christmas years. Putting the tree up as a family was tradition, was something we looked forward to year after year.
The tree eventually evolved carrying paper poinsettias and silk ribbons. Gone were the days of technicolored balls and wooden soldiers. Perhaps all the kids in our home have grown, and the theme made a twist for the more sophisticated. A Victorian angel topped the tree, in place of the gold foil star of our childhood.
Year after year, fewer family members would be involved in putting up the tree together. I remember all five of us sprucing it up many years ago. After my youngest sister would top the tree with the star, my Dad would plug in the lights. We would all stand back, amazed by the rhythmic twinkling. It was Christmas, and we had our tree.
Last year, it was my Dad and my sisters' boyfriends who put up our Christmas tree. My oh my, how traditions evolve, right? It was a funny sight when I dropped by my parents' home and saw one boyfriend fitting the branches into the plastic stem, while my father held the base. It was eerie at the same time, as I wondered why I felt more like a stranger to this old plastic tree than family.
And through all those cycles of themes and family members, that tall green plastic tree remains constant. It's seen various colors and various balls, different trimmings and different stars. It will remain unchanged to me, however. Whatever decorations cloak it, it is our tree -- our family tree. It is, and will always be, the tree that has seen a lot of Christmas memories, my happy family Christmas memories.
