I had this dollhouse that I just loved when I was a little girl.
I spent hours decorating that house.
My mother’s cousin, George, had made it for me one year for Santa Claus to deliver.
Who knew we had one of Santa’s elves in the family?
It was two story and every room had a different color of carpet. Some rooms had plain painted walls, some had wallpaper, some had paneling. After all, it was the ’70s. The living room had real wainscoting.
And it had a deck with railing on the second story.
Barbie and Talking Ken lived there with Barbie’s less attractive cousin, Midge.
Nearly every room had a piece of furniture my Uncle Bud had made especially for the dollhouse.
Bunkbeds that were painted antique white with flower decals on the headboard, with little foam mattresses and a separate ladder.
A fireplace with a hearth and mantle.
And a rocking chair that he carved and sanded to look like the seat was worn from people sitting in it over the years.
He was always a stickler for details like that and when I was a little girl I thought he could build anything.
What I didn’t realize at the age of eight was that it took some time to make all that furniture.
When I learned that Uncle Bud had passed away last week, it was nice to see that rocking chair up in the bookcase in my living room.
He must’ve thought a little girl was pretty important to make a rocking chair for Barbie.