Escape from the "Doll Hospital"

When toys break (through no fault of my own I swear) they go to the dreaded “Doll Hospital” which is located in one of the closets in my house. There they wait, next to the vacuum cleaner, until my drool has dried and the surgeon is ready to see them. Most toys are eventually released from the “Doll Hospital” but a certain number of patients are never seen again. It is this fear of fatality that leads me to occasionally orchestrate “jail breaks.” Today was one of those days.



My plush springy bird.

My opportunity came when my sister went into the closet looking for her coat. When she wasn’t looking I quickly scooted in and grabbed the first patient I could find (there was no time to play favorites!). It wasn’t until I had reached the side door that I realized that I had grabbed the toy the Easter Bunny left me this year (how a giant bunny got in and out of my house without me noticing is beyond me—needless to say I am quite horrified and embarrassed by this breach in security). The toy I had rescued was my plush springy bird (still too new a toy to have a proper name) with the broken “tweeting” plastic sound box (which now makes a beautiful crunching sound each time I chew on it). Because it wasn’t in too bad a shape (its two googly plush eyes were loose and hanging from their stitches), my sister (AKA the surgeon) decided that my toy was healthy enough to go outside with me. She opened the door and I sprinted outside, vaulting over the two steps connecting the side porch and the driveway, and hightailed it into the backyard. My bird and I had so much fun rolling around in the soft green grass (we also ate a stick or two for a snack)! My sister was very impressed how good a boy I was with my toy; how I refrained from yanking on the its dangling eyes.



Look at all the fun I'm having!