I have probably previously confessed I have never been a doll person.  Frankly I find them creepy, like clowns.  I always loved plush animals as a kid and eschewed any baby Mama ever bought me.  But when I saw this soft, floppy doll I knew I wanted my Baby Doll to have her.  Legend has it she came to life when her very last stitch was sewn from a princess’ dress and, of course, she is my little one’s favorite beloved pink.  She didn’t take to the doll right at first so I figured she just didn’t like her.  I could not very well fault her when I never cared for dolls myself.  And then one day I noticed Jewel Sparkles had been retrieved from a pink basket in the corner where she resided, having been forgotten and not played with.  She reminded me of the sweet little doll in the Island of Misfit Toys from the old “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” claymation.  The next thing I know Jewel began accompanying us everywhere:  from restaurants, to the grocery store, to church.  She has been hugged, whispered to, invited to tea, and loved just as I’d hoped she would be.  I snapped this picture of Jewel at the country club; my little one didn’t want her getting hurt in the bounce house.  The British idealist philosopher F. H. Bradley once wrote:

“We say that a girl with her doll anticipates the mother.  It is more true, perhaps, that most mothers are still but children with playthings.”

I may have never loved pretend dolls in the past but I sure do love the real life Baby Doll I am blessed with now.  She has huge brown eyes fringed with thick, black lashes, a head full of reddish ringlets, the fullest lips, a pert nose, and the softest skin.  Best of all, I can hug her, whisper to her, have tea with her, and love her just as I’d always hoped.