home again

When I was a kid, my parents sold the ol' homestead and moved the family across the country. The selling of said house is a story I would like to recount to you today.

It was a Sunday morning, and as we were getting ready for Church, people were lining up outside of our house. It was day one of the home being on the market, and apparently our house was so dang cool that people were lining up to catch a glimpse. Or maybe they just wanted to see how 8 people could live in such a small space.

After returning home, the realtor informed my parents {the following information might not be exactly accurate... hey, I was 10 at the time, but I think this is how things went down} that there had been two offers on our house. One was for below the asking price and the other was more than the asking price, and in cash. The one catch- they wanted my doll house.

Let me tell you about this doll house. It was three stories high, had a family of four, all the furniture you could dream of, and working lights! The house had outlets for you to plug lamps in. Seriously, cool. You could play dolls in the dark when you were supposed to be in bed. It was genius.

Back to the story: I was 10. I was excited to move, I was totally feeling like a grown up to be privy to all of this information, and so when my parents came to me and asked if I would let my doll house remain, I probably rolled my eyes and said I didn't care. But I did care, oh yes, even though I didn't realize I cared until years later.

Enter Hazel. While my parents were in town, we went to this lame flea market and saw a dollhouse for sale. My mom mentioned that Hazel needed a dollhouse, and that got the ol' wheels turning. Indeed, Hazel needed a doll house. Hazel needed MY dollhouse.

I spent almost an entire day searching the internet. I didn't know what kind of doll house it was, I only knew that it lit up and that I needed to find one. Seriously, it took hours and hours until I came across an ebay listing for my very own doll house (ok, probably not the very same one, but I like to think it is).

I called my mom and asked her how much she was willing to pay for a dollhouse. She laughed and said "nothing" and then I went on to remind her that it was because of me we were able to sell our house, dad was able to keep his job, they have been blessed with an adorable granddaughter, etc. All because of the dollhouse.

Well, the auction was won (barely), an obscene amount of money was paid, and I am now the proud owner of an 1981 Fisher Price #280 Dollhouse.

It is missing the brown-haired daughter, the original table, and the bed posts, so there is more ebay-ing to be done. And don't even think about sending your kids over to play with it, but you are more than welcome.