“Me too,” chimed in my sister. Despite our near three year age difference, my sister was nearly as big as me. People often mistook us for twins.
“I don’t know,” said Mom. You could tell she was thinking about it. “It says on the sign ‘As Is’ which means they don’t work. Dad might be able to fix them, but if he can’t would you still play with them? Even if they don’t chew their food?”
“Dad can fix them. He can fix anything.” my sister and I said in unison. Dad seemed to be capable of fixing most anything. We both watched her in eager anticipation hoping she would agree.
“Well, okay.” She picked two boxed dolls from the bin. Then finished the rest of our shopping.
A few days later I was anxious to play with my doll. I wanted to stir that powdered food with water and watch her little mouth gum it until it disappeared. Then I could change her poopy diaper. Dad was conspicously missing, but I had a good idea where to look.
He a spare room had been turned into a workshop inside the house. My sister and I were banned from it unless he was in there. Most of the time the old wood pocket doors were slid shut, but today they were cracked open enough for me to peek. Dad was sitting at a work bench busy with something. The smell of hot solder stung my nose.
The pocket doors were heavy for a small kid like me. I leaned hard against one of the thickly painted brown doors. It took most of my body weight to nudge it enough to squeeze through. Slowly I walked up to him, spotting a mop of curly blond hair on the work bench in front of him. A doll missing the top of its head was jabbed feet first between his knees. I watched for a bit as he poked at some colored wires and a little box inside the doll’s head.
“Whatcha doing’?” I asked twisting side to side with my hands behind my back. I knew full well what he was doing. He was fixing my doll!
He stopped working. Without looking up, then pressed his lips together in a straight line. He looked up at with a serious expression. Uh, oh I’ve caught him in a bad mood. I braced myself to be told to get out.
“Brain surgery,” he said in mock seriousness, bugging his eyes at me. I giggled myself silly as I left.
A day later my sister and I had working dolls. We mixed the food and fed them. We made a big fuss about how messy their diapers were as we changed them like we heard other mommies do.
J K Metz 