A MEMOIR
How a Turtle Saved Christmas
The story of Franklin
I was seven months pregnant with our second child due on December 14th. I was trying to get organized and sat our daughter down to talk about Christmas ideas.
“I want a Franklin doll,” our cherub requested. Her dimples were irresistible.
That should be easy. There are Franklin the Turtle books, movies, and television shows. Franklin is Canadian. We are Canadian. No brainer!
“That is a lovely idea, honey,” I answered. “Anything else?”
“No. Just Franklin.” And with that bomb, she went off to make me a pretend cup of coffee. She skipped instead of walking and her pigtails bobbed adorably. She was making me a coffee and she was cute — she’s totally getting a Franklin!
I called our local toy store to have Franklin set aside for later.
“We don’t carry Franklin dolls,” she said helpfully. “Try Toys ‘R Us.”
I tried every toy store in the Greater Toronto Area. No Franklin. And no one had ever seen a Franklin doll, ever had one in stock, or was willing to sew one out of provided fabric for me.
Louts.
I hit eBay in desperation. $500 minimum! I love the girl, but that was too much. It was a pretend coffee, after all.
I looked in the back of one of our nearly twenty Franklin books. I called the publisher who happened to be Toronto-based. The woman told me who had the rights for plush toys for Franklin in Canada. She even provided a number.
When I asked the manufacturer, they had the rights. They never actually produced any Franklin plush toys. “Try the US,” she said helpfully and gave me the name of who owned the rights in the US.
Nope. No dolls were produced there either.
It seemed I was in a Jingle All The Way sequel, but Sinbad didn’t even have what I was looking for and Turbo-Man was not even a second choice.
I watched eBay. No one bought the doll. I offered $200 but was never acknowledged. It was going to be hard to explain the $200 to my husband, but I had hormones and the birth of his second child on my side.
I began prodding our daughter for other ideas.
“What about a play kitchen to go with your tea set.”
“No thanks. Just Franklin.”
Fuck that kid is good.
I had given up hope and was coming up with stories that might sound plausible why Santa couldn’t deliver the Franklin goods and break our daughter’s heart.
“So many children wanted Franklin, the elves chose to make as many as they could for less fortunate people in Africa.” Not good enough.
“Franklin is dead.” Might be traumatic.
“There is no Santa.” My only option.
Then I got a call.
“Kristine? Are you still looking for Franklin for your daughter?”
It was the publisher I had originally called.
“Yes! It seems no one has produced them.”
“I might have good news then. I found a factory sample from Germany in my supply closet. Can I send it to your girl?”
I cried so much, that I didn’t hear the rest clearly. But the gist was she wanted to send our Franklin fan a gift. No purchase necessary.
The box arrived and not only was Franklin in there, but there was a supply of Franklin DVDs, books, posters, calendars, stickers, and new books.
Yeah. I cried again.
The day after the package arrived, the contractions started. Our son was born that evening. Instead of waiting for Santa, our daughter’s new baby brother gave her a gift. It was sitting on his car seat when she met him for the first time.
Franklin with a pink ribbon.
“He has a Franklin!” Our daughter looked amazed.
“He has a Franklin for you. He already knows you are the best big sister and he wanted you to have the best gift.”
She hugged the doll under one arm the first time she held her brother in her lap.
“If I have Franklin now, what is Santa bringing me for Christmas?”
Good question. I already had everything I needed.
Good luck to all The Memoirist Idol participants. I’ll be reading your words and updating this link with my favorites soon.
Thank you Cliff Hightower for this beautiful story. Love is complicated.
If you have one more minute…