When my mother passed away (a little over 14 1/2 years ago), one of her possession that I was left with was a plastic bag of doll furniture. I remembered them as a child, because my mother would pull them out whenever she was cleaning out her closet. She would put the furniture out on the bed, whereas, aside from that, I was not allowed to touch them beyond her supervision.
With this dollhouse roll going on, I ended up getting another one at Michaels the other day. I thought with this one, I could bring out the furniture, and display it in the rooms for my daughter to look at. And once again (sans child), I threw this one together, not even venturing into the buttons and whatnots.
Of course I had to get another one, because the perfectionist in me, isn't too pleased with the outcome. (I just wasn't too enthused in the embellishments, after spending two hours trying to figure out how this all fit together.)
There are kids who are destructive (which I say in the most enduring way, because it didn't occur to me when my teenager was younger, to perform such a feat like this). And then there's other kids-- like her sister, who have a more calmer disposition and whom I can see taking special care in her play. And it's not like that's a bad thing. It's just the nature they are born with. (Such as the spiteful one, concerning my teenager, that made me delete her from my facebook account the other day!)
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