Little people in a little house

Joy, joy, joy...

Joy, joy, joy…

A photo attached to a FB post by NPR today made me think of one of my all-time favorite childhood toys, the Fisher-Price Little People house. Mine was the yellow-roofed house, not the slightly creepy brown-roofed Tudor.

At the time it seemed incredibly high-tech. The doorbell rang when you flicked the plastic lever at the front door. The garage door actually opened. There was a closet door that opened in the stairway. That was as far as the technology went, but I thought it was absolutely amazing.

I can still recall the feel of the plastic people in my little hands, and remember how much fun it was to arrange their furniture and put them through a “day in the life.”

So I spent a few minutes flipping through Google images finding photos of the old set, with a giant grin on my face the whole time.

Middle Sister asked what I was smiling about, so I showed her the photos. Her comment: “Oh, how fun! It looks so sincere.”

Exactly.

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8 thoughts on “Little people in a little house

  1. That’s a really interesting line of thought…I recall some books I absolutely LOVED and read over and over again, and I know for a fact that what I loved about them was the close, fun, and loving family portrayed…which was so unlike my family when I was growing up. Not that I had a tragic childhood, but we were definitely not a cohesive, happy unit. I guess in a way, my dreams came true. Not a bad thing to recognize.

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      • When I was thinking about what makes me me, I knew what made me a mom. It’s something I always wanted to do. I even remember the exact moment I decided. I must have been in second or third grade. I was reading a book (I wish I could remember the title) about a little girl being at home, looking at a little bird on the window. It was snowing and she was helping her mom bake cookies. Of course, I tried that “image”, and found out I’m not exactly Mrs. Cleaver. πŸ™‚

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