"What are you doing?" Pippa asked, as she came into the room, where Veronika, Mandy and Mariah were working on what looked like letters. "We're getting ready for the anniversary (ann-uh-VERS-a-ree) party," Veronika replied.
Pippa remembered the anniversary party last year. She knew it an anniversary was the date when something began, and that it comes every year, like a birthday. Last year was the third anniversary, so this year it must be four years since The Doll's Storybook started.
"We're writing the invitations," Veronika said. "Well, Mariah and I are writing the invitations, and Mandy's folding them and putting them in the envelopes."
"I left my glasses upstairs," Mandy explained, "and it's a lot of trouble to climb the stairs, but the invitations have to go into the envelopes, so I'm doing that. We're inviting all the dolls who are important to the stories to come and celebrate with us. The anniversary of The Doll's Storybook only comes once a year!"
"I've missed a lot, haven't I?" Pippa lamented. "This is only my second anniversary party. The other dolls nodded and continued to write. "You know," Pippa said, "I've been wondering how the stories got started. I sure wish I knew all about it!"
"We can tell you all about it," Veronika said. "You see," she began, "The Writer started keeping dolls so she would have models for doll clothes she was making for her grandchildren who live a long way away. I came to live with her, and then Mandy."
"After a while," Veronika went on, "we found out that she could see us when we ran around the house and did things, and that she enjoyed watching us. I learned to sew from The Writer, and she taught Mandy how to knit. Charlotte joined in and helped us after she came a few months later."
"As you know," Veronika continued, "most people don't see their dolls doing things, so they don't know that we can actually help with things. Most human people think dolls just stay where you leave them, because we always go back to where we were left before they come looking for us."
"The Writer had been sharing photos of the doll clothes she made with others," Mandy explained, taking up the story. "She posted them on a knitting website, where there are several groups for people who enjoy knitting for dolls. She didn't tell them that we made some of the clothes at first, because she thought they would think she was out of her mind. She just let them think that she had made everything herself."
The idea that The Writer was out of her mind made all the dolls giggle.
"Sometimes the group would have a topic or theme (THEEM)," Veronika said. "People posted photos that went along with the theme, and sometimes it looked as if the dolls were actually doing something, like cooking or picking flowers."
Mariah had been quiet. She was listening. She knew all about this, of course, even though all that had happened before she joined the family.
"The Writer, being a writer by profession, of course, wrote down everything we did," Veronika continued. "When we were busy with something, she would pick up her camera, look through it and take photos. She shared the photos and what she wrote with the people on the knitting website."
"Of course," Mandy said, "she pretended that she was just making up the stories, and then posing us so it would look as if we were actually doing all those things."
"Usually," Mariah put in, "dolls only do things when no one is around. I found that out from the dolls at school. I was surprised to find out that most human people don't notice when their dolls do things. Because The Writer sees everything we do, I just assumed all people could watch us."
"That's true," Veronika said. "Most human people don't know that dolls can climb up the bookcase and pick out books to read."
"and that can all climb into a chair to read our books together," Mandy added.
"Most people," Veronika continued, "Don't know that we can work together to do things, like make a sewing machine go."
"Most people," Mandy put in, "don't realize that we know where the cards are kept, and we play games when we want."
"They don't know," Veronika said, "that dolls can cook."
"Or that we can make our own sandwiches for a picnic," she continued.
"They don't know that we can get our own water when we want to pretend to have a drink," she added.
"And they also don't know," Mandy put in, "that we sometimes like to take a bath in the bathroom sink, and we can do that on our own."
"Remember when you and Jolena climbed inside The Writer's purse?" Mandy reminded her. "You found her credit card."
"Yes," Veronika said, smiling at the memory. "She let us buy some things online."
"When The Writer wrote all this in posts on the knitting website, she pretended that she just made everything up," Mandy said.
"Then one day," Veronika said, "she wanted to read one of the stories to her grandchildren, but it was hard to find on the knitting website, so she decided to start writing the stories as blog posts, so she could always find them."
Mandy picked up the tablet, which was lying nearby, and opened it. "Here's the very first story," she explained, when she had found what she was looking for. Pippa saw a photo of Jolena sitting in a chair. Pippa knew that chair. It was a rocking chair, and it was up in the workroom. The red chair the dolls use was in the picture, too.
"If you look very carefully," Mandy said, "you can see a spider in the picture."
Pippa looked at the photo. She couldn't see it. Then she thought it looked as though Jolena might be looking at something. She followed Jolena's eyes and could just barely make out the spider.
Pippa climbed up onto the table and pointed to the spider. "There he is," she said. (It's good that Pippa's shoes are clean.)
"That spider," Veronika continued with the story, "was a gift to The Writer from a friend who really liked Halloween. The Writer's husband found it in the house one day and tried to use it to scare The Writer as a joke."
"She recognized the spider, though," Mandy told her. "Anyway, we decided to use the spider to make up a story. That became the first story."
Then Mariah spoke. "There has been another new story every week since then," she said.
"There weren't any boys then, were there?" Pippa said.
"No," Mariah told her. "The Writer wanted to have something called diversity (dih-VERS-ih-tee) in the stories. That means being different. She wanted that because real human children started reading them, and real human children are all different from each other."
"There are lots of dolls like each one of us––hundreds or thousands," Mariah explained. "Real children all have different faces. They come with eyes and hair and skin in different colors. She bought me, because she said that some human children reading the stories look more like me. Some readers were boys, so she needed boys. That's why Billy came just after I did, and then Emil."
"And then Pippa!" the smaller doll exclaimed.
"And then Pippa!" Veronika agreed. "Every doll in the stories is important, and we really needed you! You're part of our diversity! Real human children come in different sizes. Some are smaller, like you."
"I need to ask something, though," Pippa said quietly, coming down to sit on the edge of the table. "May I invite Pauly to the party?"
Mariah picked up one of the invitations. It had "Pauly" written on it. "Here," she said, "you can give it to him in person."
"He may not live here," Veronika pointed out, "but he's an important part of our stories now. Of course Pauly should come!"
The party was fun. (The spider was the guest of honor.)
Veronika: Götz Classic Kidz Vroni
Mandy: Götz Happy Kidz Katie 2015
Jolena: Götz Happy Kidz Lena in Aspen
Mariah: Götz Happy Kidz Mariah, "Chosen" from My Doll Best Friend
"The Doll's Storybook" is not affiliated with Gotz Dolls USA Inc. or Götz Puppenmanufaktur International GmbH.
Watch for the next story each Friday afternoon at 1:00 PM Pacific Time.
<a href="https://www.bloglovin.com/blog/19832501/?claim=j3fj3mbb8kt">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>
Copyright © 2022 by Peggy Stuart
This is absolutely beautiful. Your heart is all in. I loved reading it. Thanks so much for sharing hugss
ReplyDelete