My Youngest snatched her bald-headed shortly after she entered our lives. Born in the local Dollar Store, her painted-on countenance never varies. In Nah-Nah's 20 years or so on this Earth, she's always greeted us with a smile slightly this side of syrupy.
I have to say that smile annoyed me at times. So did the stringy, orange, pseudo-Raggedy Ann yarn on her bulbous head. No surprise that the first time this cheesy dolly went on a play date, she lost that mop in a hurry.
But Ella Numera Dos adored Nah-Nah, with a pure acceptance only a two-year-old can surrender. A babysitter let Dos choose. This was the result. Unconditional love - on both sides - soon followed.
Dirty fingers smeared her face. Little hands picked at her hair until it came off in a clump. I tried, on more than one occasion, to stitch some yarn back on the top of that bald pate, to no avail. A trip through the washing machine ended in disaster. We re-stuffed Nah-Nah, sewed her back up and set her on the shelf, where she's remained, her dirt-smeared dome grinning out at us, for two decades.
Nah-Nah's Partner-in-Crime is Lambster, a smallish, squeaky lamb toy that Dos received from a cousin living overseas. My chica loved that critter almost to pieces, too. Lambster lost his squeak, and Dos almost lost the pointer on her right hand, when she wrapped the white "Made in Wherever" tag around her finger over and over again.
You may notice from the snap above that Nah-Nah and Lambster's final resting place is far from ordinary. The little dolly rests in a little bed salvaged from a long-ago student project, complete with pillow and blankie. The little lamb is in a heart-shaped basket, covered with an afghan square my child crocheted herself. He shares his bed with another little dolly who is there just to provide ballast to hold Lambster up. I don't recall this doll's name, nor much about her origin.
As many of you know, I made the 15-hour trek across America's Heartland last week to deliver some items from our casa to Ella Numera Dos, who is setting up housekeeping far away. I carefully dismantled the glass and chrome bookshelf that has been in her room forever, dusting the trophies and other knick-knacks, and stowing them in the closet. But I couldn't pack away Nah-Nah and Lambster. The bookshelf is their home. I made the executive decision to offer them a fresh start in Northeastern Wisconsin.
Summer gives me the time to reflect. That means more blogging, especially of the personal variety. I hope I haven't strayed far from the Writer's Workshop prompt today. Just like Ella Numera Dos' first friends haven't really strayed from her life, either. Old friends are the best friends.