You little cry baby!

Remember these little Eskimo babies? I had one once, although this isn't it. This one is from a - drum roll, please - garage sale!

It's a small dolly, about four-inches tall, with a knob on top of its hood that allows the child (adult, in my case) to create her play around a happy face, a crying face, and a mad face. I don't know when it was made, but it has Hong Kong printed on the butt.

I hadn't thought about this baby in awhile, but all the talk lately about Alaska made me wander into the guest room and pick it up. We call that room The Toy Room because when C-Bear was little, we decorated the room around toys for him to play with, toys from my m-i-l's childhood, toys from IT Guy's childhood, and, of course, toys from garage sales. Things C-Bear could play with were placed low; toys I didn't want touched were set on high shelves. (I'll show you the room - and its paint job - next week. This week it's housing Ike evacuees. )

Anyway, a few years ago my grandniece and her momma and daddy came to visit. She was about four-years old at the time, her eyes wide from seeing an assortment of toys so different from what she had at home. "You can play with anything you can reach," I said confidently. You already know how this story ends. When I checked back to see what the little girl had chosen to play with, I found she had pulled out dresser drawers to use as stair steps, climbed up onto the bed to step onto the blanket chest, and stood on the TV bench to bring down to her level all the things from the high shelves. Surrounded by toys on the floor, she was absorbed in vintage heaven, spinning this dolls face.