When I was little, my dad loved to tell us stories of when he was a boy. Most of the stories started out with, "We were so poor...". According to Dad, they were so poor that his entire family of 13 had to share one piece of bacon. They'd take a good sniff and pass it on to the next sibling.
They were so poor that they had to use old car oil in the place of maple syrup.
They were so poor that they had patches on their patches.
Those stories drove my Grandma crazy!
We Pattersons, though. We're poor. We are so poor that our kids have to make toys out of old logs.
Observe.
Yes, this is a log baby. Thankfully, we're not so poor that we can't afford some handkerchiefs and scarves for clothing.
And we can still afford a Sharpie to draw a face on the log baby.
Now that's poor.
Thankfully, being toy-poor makes a girl imagination-rich.
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