Playing at Night

Mom made my little sister a life sized Raggedy Ann for Christmas one year. Every detail was crafted to represent the original in the story, even to the embroidered heart on her pink cotton chest. Her tangerine colored yarn hair blazed, setting off the calico dress and crisp white pinafore.

Her fingers were forever sewn together, but somehow, on Christmas Eve she snuck into the cookies we had left out for Santa. My little sister found her on Christmas morning with a few crumbs on her face, and one last swallow of milk in a glass sitting sheepishly at the breakfast table. Embarrassed because she couldn't even wipe her mouth.

Mom had convinced us that when we slept, all our toys woke up to play. We knew it was true years before Toy Story arrived to confirm it. Finally, we had evidence.

I hated falling asleep and missing out on the fun. My little sister outgrew Raggedy Ann, but I have never outgrown my curiosity about what really goes on at night in our house. Our dog Maggie looks a bit secretive some mornings, unable to wipe the smile off her face.