|Oh, the places we went . . .|
Something she did often.
I should mention also that, when Mom washed the floor, she WASHED the floor.
Everything portable was carried into the next room.
She got down on her knees with a pail of hot, soapy water and scrubbed.
Then she applied wax.
Then she ran the polisher. Which looked like a big, green bug on a long stick.
The floor shone like a mirror. Perfect for sliding on with stocking feet.
But this story isn't about that.
This story starts where she carted the portable stuff into the next room . . .
As soon as the chairs appeared in the living room, George and I would materialize from what ever places we had disappeared into when Mom announced that she needed helpers to wash the floors.
Ahem . . .
We would line the chairs up, one behind the other.
George would be the bus driver and I would be the lady with the 400 children riding in the back.
Okay, you're right. I didn't have 400 children.
But I did have 400 stuffed animals.
Sheesh. You're such a stickler for details.
Moving on . . .
Happily, we played until Mom finished with the floors and came out to dismantle our playground.
Actually, it was the one time in the week that George and I did play happily together.
A thing of note.
Oh, the places we went.
The children we dropped out of the windows and off benches.
An aside: the couch worked well for a bus, too, but there was just something about articles of furniture sitting where they usually . . . didn't . . . that inspired – play.
Moving ahead many, many years.
Yesterday, some of our grandchildren were over for a visit.
Two of the kids had lined up several of grandma's stools.
I was holding granddaughter number five.
So I was instructed that I could be the mommy in the back with the baby.
Number three grandson, announced that he would drive.
It was then that I realized - they were playing bus.
I sat in the back as I had been told and I had to smile.
Suddenly, I was four years old again.
It was a good feeling.