It was about 3 am when my brother whispered quietly, but excitedly, “Santa’s been here!” I crept down to the bottom edge of my bed, which gave a narrowed view of the living room in the distance, to verify his exclamation. He was right! The dim night light outlined shapes on and around the sofa that wouldn’t be there on any other day but Christmas.
I jumped out of bed and together we raced to the living room tearing open packages, squealing with delight. I unwrapped my favourite toy, a beautiful doll house. I had written to Santa about it and he had delivered. What a man!
I’ll never forget the joy and excitement, and the hours I’d spend playing with it. The light green wooden back panel opened up to reveal a generous two story floor plan and even a beautiful set of wooden stairs. It came with tiny furniture that I arranged and rearranged and I even made tiny curtains for its windows, with my mother’s help.
I had a few other favourite toys, tiny porcelain tea sets, a view master, and an Etch-a-Sketch. Who remembers those?
Thanks to WordPress for today’s Bloganuary prompt, which is a great way to date myself. But who cares. The joy is in the memory of childhood toys.
P.S. The feature image is the only image I had of a cute looking house. It’s actually a building at the Niagara Botanical Gardens that I thought looked spectacular and sort of resembled my doll house.