A Tale about My Dancerina Doll

I had a Dancerina doll when I was about 9 years old.  I loved to caress her thick blonde hair that was neatly pulled back into a pony tail. Her arms moved up, down, sideways and she was always on point. Inside the crown that was placed upon her head was a knob that you could pull up or push down. When the knob was pulled up, Dancerina would twirl around and around.  I spent hours playing with her. She was my favorite toy.

My sister, who is eight years younger than I am, had pneumonia. Her sickness started out as croup and got steadily worse. She was so sick my parents decided to take her to the hospital. Once the doctors examined my little sister it was decided that she be admitted to the hospital for a few days. An oxygen tent covered her little bed. My mother told me that my sister needed a toy to play with and gave my doll to her.  I was deeply hurt that my mother took it away from me.  I tried to be a big girl. After all, my sister was sick.  When my sister came home, the doll was returned to me. Dancerina's hair was matted and she no longer twirled around. It was ruined. I cried. I no longer wanted the doll and gave it back to my sister. I think that my mother was wrong by taking the doll away from me. Maybe that is why I hoard things today.  What do you think?