Tonawanda News — We all have toy stories.
A battered teddy bear. A train played with until its wheels fell off and its battery compartment (if it had one) wouldn’t close. A cherished doll. A tiny metal car that won every race its young owner started, or an action figure that always, always saved the day.
What was your favorite toy as a child?
There’s a photo of me, 4 years old, beaming underneath the Christmas tree with a baby doll slung under one arm and a toy ambulance at my knee. I will freely admit that I have no idea what became of the doll. The ambulance was my favorite plaything for years.
Another year, it was a toy kitchen set. Or a stuffed dog. I went through the My Little Pony phase with other daughters of the 1980s, back when they were just a toy and not a pop-culture phenomenon. I had a stable full of the equine characters, all with their own backstories and traits mostly dreamed up in my 8-year-old or so mind.
All my toys had backgrounds. This stuffed critter lived in a den at the top of my bookcase (which was actually an enchanted mountain). This doll wanted to be an artist (and had a ton more talent that I actually did). This race car was driven by a the first female driver on the track. (Danica Patrick, eat your heart out.)
It’s funny, but more than 30 years later, I can still remember some of those stories. Heaven knows where most of the toys have gone, but the stories remind, taking up space in my 30-mumble brain that would probably be better used on such things as remembering where I left my car keys this morning.
As my boys get older, it’s fascinating to listen to them start to spin their own tales.