I love this story out of today’s New York Times: a library that loans out an American Girl doll just like it does books.
Kirsten was my first American Girl doll, given to me for my 10th birthday. I loved her, and all the dolls I eventually received, passionately. M allowance went to buying them clothes and accessories and furniture, when I’d saved enough. I slept with them, traveled with them, and played with them every day. I devoured their stories. I chose Kirsten because she looked the most like me (at the time, there was only Kirsten, Samantha–brown hair and brown eyes–and Molly, with brown hair and grey eyes). They’re well-made dolls, designed to be loved and petted and, yeah, abused (Kirsten’s hair? Don’t even ask me about it. It’s a disaster). They inspire such great play and interaction between books and toys.
Mine are being saved for my kids, or my siblings’ kids, and I hope I can pass that unique magic down to them. More than any Barbie, these dolls become friends.