“Where’s Betty Boo?”

”Betty Boo(Blue)” was the first toy I remember. Blonde-haired Betty and her bright blue dress were molded in the hard celluloid of cheap toys of the 1930’s.  I loved Betty and played with her constantly.  Though I was careful, in the hands of a tiny child, it was her fate to be dented before too long.  At my disappointed wailing, Daddy warmed my darling, damaged Betty near the fire.  Voila! The dent magically popped out, restoring Betty to perfection. He warned me never to try fixing Betty myself.  She might catch on fire. Several more times Betty suffered and was restored to health.  In my mind, she was indestructible.  The repair looked so easy.  Early one morning when Daddy was gone to Clarksville for supplies, Betty’s face caved in.  I was frustrated, knowing Daddy wouldn’t be home for a long time.  Maybe Mama could fix her.  “I think we’d better wait for Daddy.  Betty’s getting pretty old and she may not pop back in place this time.”  Mama turned and went back to cleaning up after breakfast, just like Betty wasn’t hurt and it didn’t matter a bit.  Impatient, I held Betty Boo by the feet, head extended toward the flames.  Poof!  Betty blazed up like a candle. I dropped the melting mess to the wood floor as Mama whirled.  “What did you do?  Where’s Betty Boo?”  Big-eyed with shock, I just pointed at the oily stain she’d left on the floor. For days to come, they’d laugh and ask me, “Where’s Betty Boo?”

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