My best friend growing up was born a hundred years before I was. I was with her in covered wagons and through hungry winters. I played with her in the chill autumn air. We spent some of just about every day together and no time reminds me more of her than Christmas. Every doll I ever got on Christmas morning reminded me of the rag doll, Charlotte, her mother made for her when all she had was a corn cob wrapped in a handkerchief for playing house, and that she rescued from a mud puddle years later when she was thrown away by mistake. As I work on sewing or crocheting projects for Christmas presents, I think of the winter she and her family took turns working with their backs to each other so they could finish surprise gifts in a tiny cabin. As I fill stockings, I think of Mr. Edwards carrying treats on his head while fording a freezing river so that Santa could come to the prairie. When I anxiously wait f
or loved ones traveling in bad Christmas weather, I think of the days Pa spent under the snow eating oyster crackers and candy to survive. And when unexpected Christmas visitors show up, I think of Almanzo appearing almost magically on Christmas Eve to see the beloved girl he waited years to marry open her presents. I want Scarlett to know her, too, so we read A Little Prairie House so they could get acquainted. Merry Christmas, Laura.
http://www.amazon.com/Little-Prairie-House/dp/0064435261
http://www.lauraingallswilder.com/
