At work I am surrounded by paper.
Paper, and boxes filled with more paper.
At home, when I sit at my computer, I am surrounded by little dolls.
Polly Pockets to be specific.
Not my daughter’s Polly Pockets either.
The new, larger (don’t choke on me), more rubberized version of a mini-Barbie.
There are many varieties.
Different colors and shades of hair.
I am not sure I have seen a boy-pocket.
I have seen several Disney princesses.
And they all have rubberized clothes and mini-shoes that come off,
and are apparently a bit harder to get back on.
I was never that big into Barbie. I did have a Barbie, and a Ken.
I also had a larger doll, with red hair.
I think I wanted that doll because my older sister had one.
I don’t remember her playing with dolls too much either.
But I wonder about the Pollys.
They are so small.
I think I liked little things that could be manipulated.
Who knows.
What I really remember playing with were little cars.
Hot wheels.
Really Models of Yesteryear were my favorites.
My cousin and I would play for hours with cars on the floor of the old cabin.
Maybe it’s me.
Or maybe it’s just growing up in Michigan.
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