When I was a little girl, how old I do not remember, my parents were poor. I think they were poor for MOST of my childhood actually, but I never KNEW we were poor. Mom's standards were such that we never LOOKED poor, and we certainly never ACTED poor...which is one reason why I believe most fervently, that you can economically-speaking be "lower class" but still have middle class standards.
And I have a hard time respecting those who shout pauperhood from their rooftops.
One year, my parents asked a neighbor to build this cradle for me. My mom stitched up some bedding for it made from cream fabric with pastel little animals on it. It was edged in blue ribbon-flecked with gold. Funny, I have that SAME spool in my craft room about 20 years later...
I woke up Christmas morning and was in LOVE with what was probably my only present. Tucked within that most amazing (in my eyes) cradle and bedding set, was a small little doll. It was a very very special Christmas.
That same cradle, now sits next to MY little girls' bed, with the SAME bedding as I had, though she has a much larger brood of children that have been rocked in it.
The other day, I walked into the room and saw my Panda camped out in it, reading a book and I couldn't help but think, once again-I had a dollbaby in my cradle. Funny. It never EVER crossed my mind, in those days of my girlhood, that my own real LIFE child would find comfort in my very special and very loved cradle.