My Dolls

In grade school, I had a little doll that had the face and hair painted on it.  It also had a hole in its mouth and another hole to “pee.”  I would give it water from a tiny baby bottle, squeeze its chest, and it would pee.  I loved to wash the doll, too.  I washed it so much that the color on the eyes and hair came off.  I would wash it in the bathroom sink.

One Christmas Santa gave D and I each a big 24-inch doll.  My mom made clothes for them—a couple of dresses; a pair of pajamas; a robe; a pair of underwear; a slip; and a skirt, blouse, cape, and hat to match.  Boy, I admire her for making two of all those clothes.  I named my doll Cindy Gell.  D named hers Sally Ann.  One day, one of us put our doll on the living room couch.  My Dad came home from work and thought it was our younger sister C sitting there on the couch!  I still have that doll.  Her hair is all ratty from brushing it so much, and her face and arms are sticky because she is so old.

  Here is Cindy Gell.  Click on the photo to see her hair.  You won't be able to feel her sticky skin.  That is a good thing.