My mom has this picture that she likes to talk about- my sister and I standing in Boston on a family vacation…I was 12/13 maybe and there I am in a big city carrying my baby doll. Not just any baby doll, MY baby doll, she was the love of my childhood. She was so life like, her head was even a little floppy just like a new born. When I was probably 9 years old, my dad decided her head shouldn’t flop so much so he was going to ‘fix’ her for me. I never went to bed without my doll. I tried to sleep but just couldn’t. Those that don’t know my dad, well he’s a real life MacGyver. Army war Veteran, the man can make anything out of anything. So I was confident but couldn’t sleep. I ventured out to the kitchen where I found my dad…and my decapitated doll. Doll body in his hands, fluff on the counter and her head just sitting there – besides being horrified, I was devastated, my heart sank, my baby! In typical MacGyver fashion he had her all ‘fixed’ the next morning, and to this day her head remains permanently reattached with a wire tie.


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