My sister and I grabbed ALL of the stuffed animals and dolls that lined the headboard of each of our beds. We both had 5 or 6 we slept with. Not for security, but because we treated all of our toys equally.
We lined them up in a rank only we understood and passed out paper and crayons. My sister took her spot between her Cabbage Patch and favorite bear, and I took mine at the focal point adopting the role of “teacher”.
After letters, shapes, numbers, and art class, we would gather them and go to “recess”. Most of the toys would play on our beds, but the dolls would find themselves hanging precariously out of a plastic basket strapped to the handlebars of our bikes. I can’t remember how many times we had to go “bandage” a “boo-boo” when one fell out during a bump, turn, or just fear for their stuffing!
I guess teaching has always been in my blood. And mothering. That hurt dolly had to feel better after we kissed it, wrapped it, and gave it a “treat” for being so brave.
And I am a teacher and mother today.
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I Was Mature For My Age Then [When I Grow Up challenge]
Posted 4 months ago
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