The Crafter was at writing camp this week. I sent her because getting her to write is an exercise in frustration for both of us. I am pleased to say that the week went well with the most difficult part being getting up and out in time. They had many different activities to encourage creativity. One was to describe a random object taken from a grab bag. This is what the Crafter wrote.
I remember when I was still at a store in Russia. I was polished daily. I was smooth, shiny, and colorful. My two friends who lived inside me looked exactly like me. But I didn't feel loved.
One day a little girl came into the shop. She passed by all the dolls and came to me. "Mommy! This is the doll I want," she said. In a few minutes, I was in the car going to her house.
After several years, I was chipped from being chewed by a dog, my paint had mostly washed off from being left outside, and my smallest friend was missing. But my owner was still my best friend, even though she was grown up.