Long ago there was once a doll maker who owned a small shop in the city. This kindly man was said to make the best dolls in all the earth. Each doll was handcrafted, unique, and made from the finest materials. The dolls, in fact, were of such high quality and so specially made that he would only make one doll for each child and ask the child to care for it the rest of his or her life.

One day a little girl, probably four years old, visited the shop with her mother. As was his custom, the doll maker sat the girl on a tall stool beside his workbench with a chocolate-chip cookie and a tall glass of milk. The doll maker talked and laughed with the girl as he worked. Each word she spoke and smile she shared revealed the secret contents of her heart which the doll maker skillfully incorporated into each stitch of her doll. In what seemed like only minutes the doll was complete and quickly engulfed in the little girl’s arms. “Perfect”, she thought and promised the doll maker she would care for her doll for the rest of her life.

For many years the girl kept her promise to the doll maker. She loved the doll, cared for it, and took it everywhere she went. She thought the doll was so special that she actually got just as much joy sharing it with the other children as she did when she played with it. She loved her doll much like she loved herself.

However, time passed and it became more and more unacceptable to have a doll. Often the other children at school made fun of her and told her that only stupid babies played with dolls. “But this one is special”, she tried to explain but the insults only became more ferocious. The little girl cried often and, sadly, it wasn’t long before the girl began to believe the other children. It happened slowly, of course, but the time came when the girl didn’t love the doll anymore. She blamed the doll for causing her so much pain. She abused it. Neglected it! HATED IT! And she loved her doll much like she loved herself.

Many long years passed and the girl was now a woman. She sat alone in her childhood bedroom and became very sad as she thought about her life. “What happened?” she asked herself. As she aimlessly looked around the room she noticed her old doll sitting on her dresser nearly covered in clutter. She took her doll in her hands and inspected it carefully. It was dingy and worn, many buttons were missing, and much of the stitching had come unraveled. It was falling apart, nearly ruined. She desperately tried to fix the doll herself but everything she did only made it worse. The woman wept. And she loved her doll much like she loved herself.

The next day the woman took her doll to the shop in the city. When she walked in the doll maker stood to greet her and smiled as if he’d been waiting to see her for a long time. She started to speak when the doll maker brought his finger to his lips, silencing her. He turned and motioned toward a tall stool beside his workbench on which sat a chocolate-chip cookie and a tall glass of milk. A tear ran down her cheek.

The doll maker took the woman’s tattered doll and set to work. He talked and cried with the woman as he worked. Each word she spoke and tear she shed revealed the secret contents of her heart which the doll maker skillfully incorporated into each stitch of her doll. In what seemed like only minutes the doll was restored and quickly engulfed in the woman’s arms. “Perfect”, she said aloud. “Yes, perfect”, the doll maker agreed. And she loved her doll much like she loved herself.