When I was a child I used to have a favorite doll I played with all of the time. To me, she was like a real baby. I had a little baby doll bed for her, little diapers, baby bottles filled with pretend milk and orange juice, and cute little outfits I’d dress her in.
Her name was Hug-A-Bye. I would put her into her little stroller, and push her around the yard. Often, I’d would pretend we were going to the grocery store where my siblings would be the shop keepers with the play money we’d use. I would buy pretend baby food for her, along with other things a child generally needs.
I love that little doll. Then, one day, I set her on a chair with some of my other dolls. The little Hug-A-Bye baby doll tilted a certain way and knocked two of the other little dolls down. I took that baby doll and gave her a spanking to punish her for knocking her siblings off of the chair. Then I shook the little baby doll.
I began to cry, because I did what I never wanted to do to anyone, let alone a little baby, even if she was only an inanimate object.
Throughout the years following the incident, I played with her less and less.
When my family moved to a new house, I put that little baby doll on the shelf of my closet, never, playing with her ever again.
As time passed, I had more and more difficulties at home with my parents, consisting of my mother taking me by the hair and shaking me violently, or my father slapping my face multiple times until the capillaries burst.
I went through difficult times for a long time. Never once thinking about the baby doll I played with as a child, because as I got older, my I had bigger things to concern myself with. I grew up fast, because at the age of 12, I was told by my parents I had to stop playing with dolls and toys, and take on responsibilities an adult generally took on.
Upon arriving home from school, I was in charge of caring for my two siblings, which meant I had to make sure they did their chores, and didn’t have any friends over at our home. I had to clean the house from top to bottom, and make sure my siblings got dinner started for our father so it would ready upon his arrival home. I had to make sure everything was done to perfection.
During the weekends, Christmas break, Spring Break or any other time when there was no school, I, along with my siblings, had the sole responsibility of help out at our parents carwash, without pay.
It wasn’t until last year, I went through my things at my grandmother’s house, I came across my Hug-A-Bye baby doll, remembering the good times I had with her when I was a small child. I also remembered how I rough I was with her, and how violent I got with her. It was a mixture of pleasure and pain. However, as an adult now, I took her into my arms, and made a little bed for her. I even went out and bought her a new outfit; thus, removing her old clothes, and replaced them with new ones.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015