Have I Ever Told You About…

The Great Cabbage Patch Doll Hunt of 1991?

A small story from my early days of motherhood, when a tight budget, a stubborn search, and a little holiday magic came together in the best possible way.

My little angel was nearly two. She was an easy baby and a joyful toddler. She smiled and talked all the time. She was a late walker and preferred to sit quietly and play with her toys.

She went to daycare during the day while I worked at the bank downtown. We were on a tight budget but getting by.

One afternoon, when I arrived to pick her up, one of the childcare aides told me my little angel loved one particular doll. As soon as she finished breakfast each morning, she went straight for this doll.

She had learned to share it, but not happily. The aide told me she treated the doll with such tenderness. She talked to her, pretended to comb her hair, dress her, feed her, and put her down for naps. After nap time, she pushed her around in a small stroller, chatting nonstop. Some words were clear; others were absolutely not, but she was definitely explaining life to that doll.

Sometimes she sat with the doll in her lap and “read” her books. She got animated with each story and pointed at pictures, explaining everything on the page.

My heart was full listening to all of this because she was clearly mimicking our time together. When I asked to see the doll she loved so much, I was surprised to learn it was a Cabbage Patch doll.

A Cabbage Patch doll was a hand-stitched soft doll that came with a birth certificate and adoption papers. There were Cabbage Patch Kids and Cabbage Patch Babies.

I don’t know if you remember the Cabbage Patch craze, but it was wild. People collected them. People fought over them. They were the gift for years.

Translation: they weren’t cheap.

So I opened a small savings account just for this goal. I tucked away a few dollars from each paycheck for more than six months. When Christmas rolled around, it was time to start the hunt.

I already knew it would be hard to find one, that I couldn’t be picky, and that if I shopped wisely, I might even afford an extra doll dress or maybe a play stroller.

I’m dating myself here, but back then, Black Friday was truly Black Friday. No online shopping. You watched the ads and hoped the big newspaper stuffed with them landed on your doorstep on Thanksgiving morning.

I didn’t subscribe to the paper, but my parents did, and my little angel and I were spending the day with them. Once we arrived, she became their little angel, which gave me time to scour the ads for the best deal.

I found it. I even circled a couple of backups in case the first option went down in flames.

I didn’t have Black Friday off, so I had to wait until Saturday. I knew that made my chances slimmer, but I had to try.

Saturday morning, I dropped her off at my parents’ house and headed into the wild world of holiday shopping.

I went to multiple Toys R Us and Walmart stores. Every one of them was sold out.

That is how I ended up at a mall. My target was the Kaybee Toy Store.

If you remember those days, you know the mall walkway felt like swimming upstream. People everywhere, the smell of cinnamon pretzels lingering in the air, and me weaving through the crowd, determined not to lose hope.

When I reached the store, I asked the exhausted clerk if they had any left. Her hair was sticking out in every direction, and she pointed toward the back. She said they were probably gone, but told me to check anyway and to look all over the store. If any remained, they likely would not be in the doll section. I felt like this was my final chance, and somehow she picked up on it. I was a young mom doing my best on a tight budget, and she met me with simple kindness when she easily could have waved me off.

I nodded and began the search. I walked aisle by aisle, looking behind toys, stepping carefully over items scattered across the floor. I found dolls, but never the one.

Then, out of nowhere, the same clerk hurried toward me with a Cabbage Patch doll in her hands. Just as she raised it toward me, a man called out asking if he could buy it. She shook her head and said, “Sorry, this one is for her,” and placed it in my hands.

I followed her to the register, beaming like I had won the lottery. After thanking her again and again, I left the store gripping that bag as if it were solid gold. I remember the cold air hitting my face as I stepped outside and how even the frigid parking lot felt warm that day.

On Christmas morning, I took my little angel out of her crib and brought her downstairs to the tree where the wrapped doll waited. I helped her open it and watched her face light up when she saw what it was.

Once I got it out of the box, she hugged the doll tight, sat down, and immediately started talking to her.

That is mostly what I remember from that Christmas. I did not fill the floor with presents. I gave her the one thing I hoped she would love. She was too young to understand Christmas, but the whole experience taught me something.

I planned my budget, I stuck to it, and with that one gift, I brought both of us joy. I never forgot that doll. I always thought it was a little ugly, but she adored it. She took such good care of her toys that she passed that doll down to her little sister five years later.

For me, it will always be one of my favorite memories, the Great Cabbage Patch Hunt. And if I have ever told you anything worth holding onto, it is this: sometimes one small act of kindness or one simple gift becomes the story you carry for the rest of your life.

J.S. Whaldo