I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the slowdown.

When I was a baby, the first dolledown. When I was a baby, the first doll I received was really more of a stuffed animal than a doll.

She was meant to look like a baby swaddled and bunting, a hooded sleeper.

So the only part of her that was plastic was her face.

The rest of her was soft and plush. I called her

pink baby because she was, well, pink. I received pink baby on my first Christmas when I was 10

months old, and I slept with her every night from then on until I was a teenager.

Yes, I'm admitting to sleeping with a ratty baby doll way past the age that I probably should have

been sleeping with a ratty baby doll. But we love what we love, and we get comfort where we get comfort. I told myself that

Linus, from the Peanuts comic strip, carried his blue security blanket everywhere, but I only

slept with Pink Baby. It could have been worse. Now I have teens of my own, both of whom have

stuffies they don't exactly sleep with, but still like to have around. In fact, Pink Baby was adopted

by my son when he was small, and for years he slept with her. He liked the smooth coolness of her

plastic face, and I remembered telling him that I always loved that part of her too. My son grew out

of that bedtime necessity years ago, probably when he grew out of wanting stories and songs from mom before bed,

but she's still around. Pink Baby is part of the family. I rarely see her. She's in his bedroom

somewhere, but I know she's there. That gives me comfort.

I'd be so sad to lose her after all of these years.

Today's poem brought me right back to being a young girl with a beloved doll.

Back then, it would have been unbearable to be separated.

Lamb by Richie Hoffman I had a lamb I brought everywhere

who only had one eye.

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