Project: doll
When I imagined having a daughter, before I did have one, I pictured a wild spirit. I thought this girl would be fearless, climbing on everything, not too interested in other people. I thought she’d have a knack with blocks and legos, she’d be fascinated by fantastical stories, and she’d be always original in thought, word, and deed. In other words, I imagined her as an idealized version of myself–the way I wished I was when I was actually growing up.
Rosalind is not that girl. She is not fearless, although not timid either; she thinks about things before she does them, even at this young age. Block toys are of moderate interest to her, but she shows no signs of being an architect later in life. Instead, her focus is on other people. Some of her first words were the names of her little friends, and she talks about (and wants to talk to) distant members of her family all the time. (I can’t tell you how many times a day she points to the laptop or the phone and starts repeating, “Nanna? Nanna? Peez?”) She is also constantly surprising me at how nurturing she is, almost maternal. I got her a plastic baby doll a few months ago when I saw how she was developing, and she *loves* that doll. She feeds her with a spoon, she dances with her, she washes her hair in the bath tub. Here she is giving her a ride on her horse Rody:
Rosalind and Baby go for a ride
Plastic dolls are all well and good–at least it’s a realistic baby instead of a Barbie, lord knows–but in typical hippy/pioneer spirit, I would much rather Rosalind be playing with a soft, natural, hand-made doll that she can keep her whole life. So I decided to make her one for Christmas. Not being very fluent in sewing patterns, I ordered a kit for beginners for a Waldorf Doll with pale skin, blue eyes, and red hair. It took more hours than I really want to think about, but it was pleasant work; usually I made progress while I watched the Colbert Report or Columbo with Nathan. Here is now it turned out:
Doll in her Christmas outfit
The doll, au naturel
Does Rosalind like the doll? Well–somewhat. She is no Baby in Rosalind’s affections. But I like to think that she’s gaining some fondness for her. It’s a little hard for me to watch her spill stuff on the doll, or try to pull the hair out that I so painstakingly sewed in–but I grit my teeth and smile, because my best hope is that someday she’s a dirty, raggedy, loved object.
January 12th, 2009 at 7:31 pm
Well, this was just a wonderful post. And just for the record, I have to say that you are so much more tuned in to developing character and personality than I was. It’s not that I wasn’t, I think, but that I wasn’t as finely discriminating. Here’s what I remember observing about you: never wanting to be the leader of others, but never ever ever willing to be led; fine motor coordination pretty bad (forget about building blocks or stacking things); dead-on mimicry; very quick perception of incongruity–readiness to laugh…definitely a “merry” personality; seduced by stories (weird REM always when you were processing concepts); running, tripping, falling in that order; bored by television and other passive entertainments–always directly questioning and interacting; not very interested in dolls or animals or imaginary characters or setting up little houses/scenarios or doing dress up or dragging purses around, but obsessed with books and stories and characters and concepts. Well, I guess that’s enough for one comment–but what fun for me to conjure up the past and remember so clearly those first years with you. I think this means I’m ready to slide down the second childhood slope!