I truly loved my dolls. My parents were not big toy buyers so I only had a few but each one was precious. Every Christmas I would hope for a doll and any present that wasn't a doll was a big disappointment. Like Deya I had a sock monkey, a black doll, and a teddy bear, too!
One doll only had one arm and the other had no hair, all due to my brothers who were like
@C50 
.
I played with them all the time: washed their clothes, dried them on a tiny line, gave them baths, dressed them, sang to them, played school with them, played Sunday School with them using my collection of church bulletins, played house, played store with them, took them for walks in the carriage and saved them from repeated kidnappings by the brothers.
At night I would put them all in my old baby carriage, so that I could wheel them out in a hurry in case of fire.
I played with them until I was thirteen when I came home and found my mother burning most of them in the bin. I can still see that sock monkey's leg sticking out.