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When i was little i thought that EVERYTHING had a personality and i would re-arrange the crayons or markers in their box so they would get along better.
When I was little I firmly believed that all my dolls and stuffed animals were alive, and simply could not tell me because it was against the rules of their world. Based on this, I would have long, heartfelt, tearful conversations pleading with them to talk back to me. I would cry and plead and promise that they really, really could trust me because I would never tell anyone their secret. I used to read my dolls bedtime stories and tuck them in at night. I worried that, since they were alive and all, they might be hurt or jealous of one another if I did not spend equal amounts of time with each one. Some nights I remember really wanting to go to sleep, but having to make the rounds among my dolls, reading each her own story or promising to read her a longer story the next night if I didn’t have time…
I thought that there were little tiny people who lived in my fisher-price record player, i insisted i could see their sofa when i looked in the speaker slits and went as far as to mush up candy and push it in so they would have something to eat
My little sister used to think that the manikins at the department store were "big barbies" and she wanted one for Christmas!
The more of these I read, the more I remember...
At the age of about seven, I started being bought porcelain dolls by well-meaning aunts. They (not the aunts) were beautiful things, smooth china skin, velvet frocks and deep glass eyes.
I just KNEW that the dolls were real little girls that had somehow been transformed into their current form, maybe by a magic potion made by an enchanter. What was more, I wanted it to happen to me, too. I was still coming to terms with the idea of growing old, and I thought if I could be a porcelain doll I would live forever.
I used to believe that if I got lots of Barbies that I would go into their world that everything was pink and everyone was plastic.
I used to believe that when you left the room or the house stuffed animals would come alive.
when i was little i used to believe that when i had my window open at night, when i went to bed, i would get stolen by evil creatures.So i always cuddled my big teddy 'cause i thought he would keep me safe.
Whe I was about 6 or 7 and learning to read, I loved to look throught the pages of a cataloge at the toys. But every single thing said "Cat. no." beside it and I wondered why they kept writing about cats, when the picture was of a barbie, or a puzzle. Looking back, it obviously was cataloge number!
I thought that sea monkeys were actually going to look like they did on the package, I was convinced the "girls were going to have skirts" and was outraged when I found they were just little specks, I prostested against them for a while. . .
When I was six or seven, my mom opened up a toystore. She told me I could go into the back room. When I all I saw was a desk and some boxes, I asked "where are the elves?" I was so disappointed.
I used to believe every stuffed animal I owned was actually alive and real, and that they'd talk to each other when I left the room. I got paranoid about this, becuase they would never talk straight to my face... Ever... Even though I talked to them.
I even thought they had feelings, and felt really bad when I saw one on the floor. I would apologize to it and make sure it was okay... Even though I still felt betrayed that they'd only talk when I wasn't there.
i used to believe that my dolls would come alive every time i left the room .
My mom and I discovered a melted crayon in the basement once, and that's when I learned crayons were made of wax. I spent the next three years trying to figure out why candles didn't work the same way.
I used to believe that toy cars were called "Hot Wheels" because the tires were actually hot to the touch. I was disappointed when I got a Hot Wheels in a fast food kid's meal and the tires were actually room-temperature.
after i watched toy story a couple of times, i thought that my toys came alive when i left the room; so, whenever i left my room, i would open the door a crack and look in there. i didn't see crap. i thought the toys were really smart and knew i was there.
i used to believe that if you out grew your toys and gave them away that they would forget that you ever had them and think of their new owner as one they've always had
i used to think that anything that was shaped like an animal, was a living animal. i would be very careful with my stuffed toys. i was careful never to drop them, lie on them/ roll over them in my sleep, or suffocate them or neglect them. like when i went on vacation, i would bring as many plushies as i could ... and different ones everytime so none would feel left out. even the ugly ones that i didn't like as much.
also, i felt really sad to eat gummi bears/ gummi worms, i thought they were real and could feel pain. i would alway suck on them until they dissolved, never bite into them
I was deathly afraid of this marionette bride hanging from my bedroom ceiling. Every night I would see it staring at me and I swear it looked like it was swinging ever so slightly. The fan was never on, so this freaked me out. I made my dad take it down and put it in the garage. I was still always worried that it crawl back up to my room and kill me.
When I was little I was a big Play School fan, and I had a Jemima doll.
My sister told me that our dog Molly had jumped into the television screen and stolen Jemima from the Play School set and given her to us!