Ever since my son could read, he has been staring at two boxes on a high shelf in our garage labelled: DADDY'S TRAIN SET.
For reasons I could not, and never will understand, Mr Moo, would not get it down and let him look at them. Really? This was torture for my boy. But on Easter Sunday, I could stand it no more and intervened.
"He is nine years old, not three!"
So the boxes came down...and were spread out over two tables. I have never seen my son so excited. In fact, he it was like he was someone else, so in his element, so grown up and knowledgeable. Explaining to me all about the different types of trains, what was older and why. Hours of hours of pure joy.
I don't understand it.
My children have been playing with my toys and reading my childhood books since they were born. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to see them enjoying the exact same things that I loved a a child.
So what if one or two of my stuffed animals have needed mending, it was no bother. As I sat and stitched a split bottom or torn ear, I felt nothing but love. I would remember my own fond memories of that particular toy and smile. Thirty-five years on, and a favourite toy had been a comfort for my own children. This is a good thing.
My daughter's favourite doll is my Wendy doll. The very same Wendy doll, that lay in her wooden dolls bed, next to mine, from the age of five. It doesn't matter that her hair is bit wild and that one eye is little dodgy or that when our little cousins came to play, her leg fell off. Miss Moo Moo loves her just the same.
When I was about 8 or 9, I was desperate for a Rainbow Bright doll. I was told "no". I was just short of the amount to buy her with my birthday money. So one day, when my mum was still at work and I was suppose to be at my cousin's house, I took $5 from 'the jar' and rode my bike downtown to the toy store. I was scared to death the whole way. I was scared, because I had never ridden my bike downtown before, in fact, I had never been downtown, by myself before. All the while, I knew that what I was doing; was very wrong. It was an old fashioned toy store, with dark narrow aisles and purple scratchy carpet. The toys were lined up on shelves that reached the ceiling, I had to stand on tip-toes to get Rainbow Bright down. I nervously took her to the counter and handed over my money, in small bills and coins, with shaking hands.
I hid Rainbow Bright in my room for a days before telling the truth to my parents. I got into a lot of trouble and I never did anything like that ever again. I looooved that doll. I took her everywhere with me for years and years to come. When I was I little older I started making clothes for her, as her original dress had become threadbare. Miss Moo Moo loves that story and has loved Rainbow Bright just as much as me. She has played with, and slept with, Rainbow Bright for nearly as many years as I. It was only recently that she has been 'shelved'. She is about to lose her head and I am stumped as to how to fix it. But every now and again I find her up and about, enjoying company with my girl.
How about you?
Did you save your childhood toys?
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