I thought it was a baby doll head. You know, the little bald plastic-y ones that are that non-descript beige color. Tucked under some junk under our desk, I thought I spotted the head of a baby doll. I was thinking how odd that is because we don't have any baby doll entertainers at my house anymore. When did that happen? When did the dolls, blocks, and blankies littering the floor turn into baseballs, school books, and dirty socks? What comes after this stage? Bigger sports equipment? Then packing it all up to move out? What will I do when it's only my own things I'm tripping over on the floor? Perhaps the joy of the journey is the bodies that go in the dirty socks, and the laughter, hugs, and insight they bring.
It wasn't a baby doll head. It was a baseball, left in the sun too long. Funny, when I am left in the sun too long I look NOTHING like a baby doll!
