Meet Rex

Carolynn Primeau

When I was a little girl there was one toy at my grandmother's house: her prized Cabbage Patch Doll, Rex. I guess he wasn't really a toy because we weren't allowed to "play" with him. We could take him out of his box and hold him very nicely if we wanted; we could talk to him and show him the condo and introduce him to our new baby cousins. We all coveted him, but we knew that he would always live at grandma's. Plus, if someone took him home, what would we play with at grandma's? Her pin collection? Her dead-butterfly-pinned-to-the-wall collection? Probably not.

I'm a taller, slightly more mature little girl now. As the first granddaughter to my maternal grandmother, to my delight I inherited Rex. He sits on my shelf sporting delightful red high tops and grins down on me. I hug him every time I reach up to dust around him and wonder if my grand kids will cherish him the way I do.