It was called Flour Babies. Every kid in our Seventh Grade class bought a six-pound bag of flour from the grocery store, we dressed it up to look like a boy or a girl and propped a head on it. I guess we gave it a name.
We carried the flour baby with us everywhere we went. We took it to class, brought it home with us, and made sure we didn't leave it behind.
Leaving behind your flour baby was tantamount to committing childhood neglect - I think kids who left it on the bus or in homeroom had to endure after school suspension. Or maybe they were told, "Don't have kids."
Here are two photos from my flour baby days:
|I hold onto my flour baby like it's my own dear baby, baby|
|Younger brother and Mom pose with the flour baby|
Did you have a flour baby growing up? I'd love to hear about it.