How's this for gooey?

You know what else I loved when I was a kid? Pound Puppies. Those stuffed canines, with the hearts on their butts for authenticity purposes, were awesome. I mean, how can you resist those floppy ears and googly eyes. Most of mine were hand-me-downs from my sister, but I remember I got a BIG pound puppy for my birthday one year. I'm a big timer, what can I say?

Along with the 10 - give or take - little puppies, and one big mama, I had the Pound Puppies official carrying case. I tried to find a picture, but google images search let me down this time. It was red, tan and flimsy. A puppy's dream.

I don't think my little mind wrapped around the premise of Pound Puppies. But the more I think of it, the more I support them. It promotes adopting puppies from the pound ... and that's commendable and just plain cute.

Let me tell you about what I liked as a kid, though, and now grosses me out. No warm fuzzy feelings from this Pound Puppy spawn. Puppy Surprise.

For those of you unfamiliar with this toy, here's a rundown, best told through the Puppy Surprise jingle:

"Surprise! Surprise! Puppy Surprise ... how many puppies are there inside? There could be three. Or four. Or FIVE!"

Yep, when you ask mommy and daddy to buy you Puppy Surprise, they're not just purchasing a stuffed dog. They're purchasing a dog stuffed with puppies. That's right, a pregnant dog. So the novelty is that you buy your prego pup without knowing how many puppies she's going to birth. I mean, there could be three or for or five! So you basically rip open the dogs velcro stomach to see how many new puppies she's bringing to your world.

Any girl - or guy ... hey, I'm not judging - who had this toy knows that no one got five puppies. Don't try to say that you did ... I'd ask for documented proof. Whatever, I'm just glad the puppies weren't drenched in placenta. Talk about traumatizing ...

If these dolls could talk

Some things are better left in the past. Green silk shirts in school pictures, high school/college drama, the four-year stint of having a boy haircut (yeah, I'm a girl) ... and the like. Some things should, by all means, be discussed as often as possible. Enter childhood toys.

So here's the deal. When I was a kid, we didn't have a lot of toys around the house. I'm not laying a sob story out here ... like we were too poor to have toys. We just didn't have a lot of them. And I was too busy crawling out of my crib and walking out the front door to cross our busy street without my mom noticing ... at least she didn't notice until she heard cars screeching to a halt and she knew immediately that ornery Molly was once again up to her usual shenanigans. So when I was asked what my favorite childhood toys were, the list wasn't long. But it was long enough for that gooey-warm reminiscent feeling, which warranted a blog. Not a good blog, but a new blog nonetheless.

Instead of including my list of five-or-so favorite toys, I'm going to go into great detail to appease my inner-child and talk about my longest lasting toy relationship.
In fact, this one still makes me doe-eyed and fond when speaking of it. American Girl dolls. (To my male readers, nice seeing you again. I'm guessing you'll be exiting here.)

I'm not sure when this collection of dolls was created, but I was probably pretty close to being in the founding era. They were higher-end dolls ... each with a detailed back-story and each belonged to a different historic time. Not only did each have a back-story, but you could purchase collection of books about your American Girl and a slew of clothing/accessories in accordance to each story. (Pish posh on "imagination.")

Back in my day, there were only four dolls to choose from. Samantha - the 1904 rich girl with really nice hair; Kirsten - the 1854 Swedish immigrant new the the U.S., complete with cute blonde hair; Felicity - the 1774 red head who's ahead of her time; and Molly - the 1944, glasses-wearing girl waiting for her father to return home from WWII. (Upon further research, there are something like 15 different dolls now. I'm partial to the Original Four. Yes, they deserve capitalization.)

My older sister reached her age of American Girl-dom and received Samantha for Christmas. So I knew I shouldn't hope for a repeat. So I decided I really wanted Kirsten. The blonde hair enticed me. So a few years later when time finally came when I was old enough to be able to handle the responsibility of owning an American Girl, which doll do I get? Molly. The last one on my list. I mean, I know my name is Molly but come on ... she wears glasses and braided pigtails. Nerd alert! I grew to love my Molly doll, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed when she was looking me in the face instead of Kirsten on that Christmas morning. (So what. I was a brat. Shutup about it.)

Anyway, I can't tell you how many birthdays and Christmas seasons were spent perusing the AG catalogue for additions to my "Wish List." From Molly's dance recital outfit, to her bedroom furniture set and lunch sack for school, it was scratched down. I rarely got something from the actual catalogue, but instead had things sewn by my mom/Grandma (including a matching outfit for me oftentimes) but I was so delighted for new additions that I wasn't ever bummed about the unauthentic stuff. And now that I'm older (hey, I'm 24 now!), I totally appreciate these home-sewn gifts rather than the overpriced catalogue accessories.

So even though the price of these dolls are a little steep, if I ever have children and they happen to be female, it's safe to say their memories will be filled with American Girl goodness. Even if they do want the Molly doll ... If said children happen to be male and they still want an American Girl doll, that's another blog entirely.

(In order to prevent lame blogs as this one for future entries, topic suggestions will be taken and appreciated. And I thank you.)