Many times I would find myself over at Anne Marie’s house to play. She was my cousin. She was okay, even if she did like to play with dolls.
The first time I met her was when her mom brought her to my house. They thought we would get along nicely since we were so close in age. It might’ve been okay if she hadn’t brought those darn dolls with her. How sappy!
As soon as she walked through the door with her brown curls and those ugly dolls hanging from her hands, I knew I was in trouble. Yuck! I ran upstairs to hide, but my mom found me. “Tammy Marie, Annie has brought her daughter to play with you.”
“Aw, Mom, she’s gonna wanna play babies. I don’t like that sissy stuff.” I grumbled from underneath my bed, giving away my position.
My mom yanked me out by my leg with me protesting the entire time. “She can play with Bobby. He doesn’t know any difference anyhow. Moooom….”
Despite our rough start, we did grow on each other. She hardly ever made me play dolls cause she knew I hated it. Anne Marie had a chalkboard and school desks in her grandparents’ basement so a lot of times we would pretend to be at school. Only our school was cool. Not like the real thing. We would let our students, which were a mixture of stuffed bears and dolls, ask questions. A lot of times we would have really good answers for them, too.
If we weren’t playing school, we were pretending to be at church and took turns being the priest and doling out the wafers. Her grandpop would get bags of them from the church for us. Those things weren’t as tasty as potato chips, but we sure could put them down.
“Hey, Anne Marie.”
“What?”
(to be continued)
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