Famous Canadians' favourite Christmas gifts

Lynn Johnston
Cartoonist, For Better or For Worse
I was about seven years old when I received my metal dollhouse as a Christmas gift from my dad. He'd seen it and thought that it would be something I'd like, and he was right on the money. I can still see it; I know exactly how big it was and what it looked like. It had all these little people in it and little furniture, little dressers with little mirrors, curtains and pictures painted on the walls, a sink with tile behind it and a cuckoo clock in the kitchen. And there were carpets painted right on the floor. It was just a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and you don't see that much anymore. I loved it!

I made up imaginary characters and stories and I would play. It was just a wonderful opportunity to enjoy my own imagination. I had it until I was about 12. We were always a very giving family and we always said, "Oh, so-and-so would like this. The neighbours' kids are a perfect age for this." I readily gave things away, just as my parents did. Now, of course...it's not that I want it back, I'd just like to see it again.

Christine Cushing
Chef and TV host
Busy Lizzy was my pride and joy. The best day of my life was when I opened the box for Busy Lizzy at Christmas when I was eight. I was so excited! She was this beautiful doll that stood a foot- and-a-half tall, maybe two, and she had curly, blond hair that was kind of Shirley Temple-esque. She came with an ironing board, a vacuum cleaner and a duster – and I l-o-v-e-d her. I really, really loved that doll. I would get so excited because you could stand her at the ironing board and put the little iron in her hand and she would go back and forth on the ironing board, ironing.

The worst day was when I came home and my brother, who was very mischievous and destructive, had just trashed her, ripped her apart, and she was not repairable. I was devastated and started flipping out. I was just so distraught. I'd had her for less than a year. Poor Lizzy.

Serena Ryder
Singer-songwriter
There's only really one toy that made it through for me, and that was the classic teddy bear. I've had this teddy since I was two years old. It was Christmastime, and I'm pretty sure my mom gave him to me. My teddy bear has no name. He's the plainest teddy bear I've ever seen. He has a big bum and stumps for legs, so he's always sitting upright, like a bear sitting down to eat some honey. He's got soft brown fur, a mouth made of string stitched in a "W," a dark brown nose and eyes that kind of look like cat's eyes or marbles. He's never come apart, ever, so he's sewn up pretty well!

I've always had a huge imagination and, as a child, I found that a lot of toys that did too much, said things or made sounds didn't let me make up any stories about them, because they already did it all for me. With this bear, I could make anything I wanted happen. He was a blank canvas. He wasn't too big or too small, so I could always have him around. I still have him, in my room, on my bed. That's the beauty of this teddy bear! I lose everything; I break things, and I stain things, and I shrink everything that I put into the laundry. But this teddy bear is something that has always been around, and I've never lost him, and he's been this solid thing in my life. My life has evolved around this stuffed animal. He just has this timelessness about him.

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