When I was a little kid–these 3-1/2 inch dollies–called “Pee Wees” were a pretty hot ticket.
In the sixties—yes, that’s when I was a kid, move on, move on—these little things cost around $1.25 each–about a month and a half’s worth of allowance.
I would save up for what seemed like years and then we’d head off to Woolworth’s to choose my little Pee Wee doll. It was a huge decision for a kid like me. I mean, they were–after all— coming to live with me, forever, so I had to be careful to choose just the right one. It felt more like an adoption than a…you know…purchase.
TANGENT:
So, I had this friend in the Second grade named Belisa. She was very pretty and had a graceful sense of class–for a 2nd grader–so I tried very hard to be like her. She wore pretty dresses so I wanted to wear pretty dresses. She had white shoes–so I had white shoes. But what really intrigued me was that she carried around a tiny little tan purse. Quite a mysterious thing to an unsophisticated child like me. So, at my very next birthday, I asked for a purse–just like Belisa’s.
I was beyond excited to take my lovely, amazing purse to school the next day. Only problem was that when it came time to leave, I really had no idea what a 7 year old is suppose to carry around in the darn thing in the first place. On my way out the door I grabbed a handful of Pee Wee dolls, stuffed them in and went on my merry way.
It’s quite likely that Belisa thought I was a complete wack-job when she saw my brand new purse bursting at the seams–not with lace hankies and peppermint chapstick–but with nearly a dozen teeny tiny baby dolls and their itty, bitty bottles.
Crazy, that is, until I poured them all out and became the instant hit of the playground.
Oh—how to win friends and influence people…
Heh.
