Trouble Dolls

Way too many years ago, I went on a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (my favorite museum). While I was there I purchased some trouble dolls. For those of you who are unfamiliar with these dolls, they are less than an inch tall, come from Central America and you tell your troubles to the doll and they then have the trouble instead of you. For some reason I still have them. They have sat in a box along with some other odds and ends. Well, on Sunday, I opened this box to find a postcard my dad wrote to my mom about being in Haight Ashbury during the Hippie Years (see Rick's post). The kids decided to look in the newly unlocked treasure box and found the trouble dolls. Now, you would think that I opened up the secrets to the universe or at least the upcoming Christmas Toy Catalog. Nope, 20 year old dusty trouble dolls. Trevor and Annika played with these dolls for HOURS!. When it was time to put them away, I had to assure Trevor that he would be able to play with them when I got home from work the next day. At 6:30am this morning, I hear the pitter patter of little feet coming into my room. For those of you who don't know, Trevor doesn't rise before 8 for anything - really, never is he up that early. He comes to me wanting to know if he could just look at the dolls to see if they were still there. I let him play with them for a while and went to work. The minute I pulled into the garage, Trevor and Annika were at the garage door wanting to know if they can get the dolls out. Who knew that was all I needed.