|Louise and her Madam Alexander doll|
If you've followed this blog at all, you will know that I have been abnormally bitter about the fact that my sister, Toni, once got a large Madame Alexander doll for Christmas. I don't remember the event, but she told me a couple of years ago about this doll and I was agog. Our mother, who raised us, in the benign orphanage, did not blithely buy Madame Alexander dolls. I refused to believe my sister, but she got up and returned with truth. There it was, golden haired, in a white satin dress. Her doll from childhood.
I sounded like a dog howling after being hit by a truck when I saw it. No, no, no. Mother gave Toni a Madame Alexander and not me. Not Janie. Not Marilyn. Not Judy. Toni!
Was it because she was a blue baby when she was born? Was it because she nearly strangled on the umbilical cord that mother had this unusual girlie empathy for Toni and gave her this doll?
Last night, was card night, and everyone had had September birthdays. As you may remember my parents liked having sex in January.
Anyway, Toni had brought me a gift all wrapped up in blue shiny paper. Oh no, I am an abominable sister, because I do not have a return gift. I throw my head into Toni's lap and moan my embarrassment.
"I've had this six months," she said. "I didn't buy anything for anyone else, but you've always wanted one, so I bought it."
In other words, stop sniveling.
And it was a miniature Madame Alexander doll bought on ebay. It still has the original tag and box and it is in Dutch costume! (You can tell when I'm excited because I reserve my exclamation points for only the most exclamatory occasions. And I never use two: bad form).
I love you, Toni, for your remarkable sisterly kindness. And I love my Madame Alexander doll.