Toy Box

The Toy Box
Pauline Lachman
4 December 2007

“Come on Polly, we’ll be late for school,” Ann her older sister said. She tugged the little girl’s arm.
With the other, Polly braced on the window, her eyes glued on the toy box that sat on a pedestal. A pane of glass was all that separated her from the box and its treasures. Polly took one last look at the pictures of the plane, the car, the horse, shown on the box. She’d draw them in her workbook that day.
“I’ll ask Dad to get us that for Christmas,” Polly said to her sister.
“Stop dreaming and let’s get to school.”
Father Christmas would come. He always did. His gifts were for everyone Polly knew. This box was special. It would be only for her family. The money they had saved in their piggy-banks would buy that box full of wonderful toys.
A few days before Christmas, Dad used the other side of the hammer to pull the sardine-tin piggy banks nailed to the wall.
“Why are you doing that?” Polly wanted to know when he straightened the bent nails?
“We’ll use them to put up the new banks after Christmas.”
Dad counted up the pennies, the six and twelve- cent pieces, the shillings, and the red dollar bill - the torn one, the one her godmother had given her when she stayed at their home last year.
“Have we got enough, Daddy?” Polly asked.
Her Dad smiled. “Just enough.”
It was a bright sunny morning, a few days before Christmas. Lots of people were out Polly and her father walked down to the store. The little girl held onto her father’s hand. His strides were long. To keep up she skipped all the way. The man behind the counter sorted the money after her Dad handed it over.
“How did the green dollar and the purple one get into the pile?” Polly asked.
Dad didn’t answer.
“You’ve bought a fine gift for the children,” the man said. He handed over the box. In Dad’s hands it was now theirs.
On the way home Polly giggled, jumped up and down, and sang, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” Some of the words got jumbled when her tongue slipped in the gap in her mouth.
---------------------
It was Christmas morning. Father Christmas had left gifts beside the children’s pillows.
“I got a boy dolly. What did you get?” Polly asked her sister.
“A Raggedy-Ann,” she said. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Polly laughed. “We’ll play wedding after breakfast.”
“Don’t forget, Daddy has to open the box.”
“I didn’t. I can’t wait. I-want –the-plane. What do you want?”
Polly did not wait for her sister’s answer. She jumped out of bed, untangled her night dress and ran into the living room.
While her brothers and sisters showed off their toys, Polly headed straight for the toy-box.
Dad opened it and lifted layer upon layer of cottonwool. He picked up a little box. “This is for you” he said to Ann. The other one he gave to Gerry. It seemed forever before he said, “Oh, Polly this is yours.”
Polly took the matchbox. Her eyes widened, her jaws dropped as she opened it. An airplane! “Buy, but it’s only a baby one,” she said.
The picture on the box looked so much bigger. She put the plane back in its bed of cottonwool and laid it on the table. Polly licked the tear off her cheek.
She went to get her dolly. Father Christmas’gift was much nicer.