A rat's attic?

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Brian plugged away in his home office while Lily and Clara played in their bedroom.  The three and five year old girls made a fair amount of noise most of the time, giving him a relaxed sense of security.  There were enough “Daddy, can I have…” questions, just enough to reassure him that the girls were playing benignly.

With confidence, Brian finished his projects and phone calls, and then went to check on the little girls.  He encountered a construction of impressive size.  Stacked atop a sturdy round child table (IKEA) were three Ikea stools, upon which was laid a TV tray top.  Balanced on the tray were a Barbie suitcase and some lunch boxes. 

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From layer to layer, Brian followed the tower.  It rose to just below the in-ceiling attic hatch.  The hatch was cracked open with a toy broom wedged in the opening. 

“Girls…what did you do…?  Brian’s voice drifted off as he appreciated the stability of structure.

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Both were coloring quietly.  Without looking up, Lily sweetly told him.  “Well, Daddy, we heard you say something about I don’t give a rat’s attic about…, so we decided to check for rats in the attic.”  Giving her daddy a smile, Lily concluded.  “We didn't see any rats, so it’s okay…”

Massacre in the Sock Drawer

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Life was great in the sock drawer.  They were one big happy family, freely visiting from the back to the front of the drawer.  Some socks had returned from vacations recently, and spoke glowingly of the glories of Fresno and Bakersfield, and other distant exotic destinations. 

Yes, cotton, spandex, wool, and nylon co-existed happily.  Polyester was merely tolerated. 

Then came the massacre, a purge that would traumatize the sock drawer for all time.  Not one sock that survived would ever forget that day when friends and family were divided, and some disappeared.

The damned IKEA product, Komplement #16635, was to blame.

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One morning the drawer was opened, pulled out, and dumped onto a bed.  Some of the socks had never seen the light of day and were stunned by the open sea of bedspread.  Socks were tossed left and right.  Some were knotted together without ceremony; others were thrown into the waiting jaws of Good Will bags.

Then the Komplement #16635 box was assembled and pushed snugly into the drawer. 

Such efficiency, such brutality!  In moments, all the mated socks were sorted into their boxes, and the drawer closed slowly.  Gone were the Veterans, the Christmas tree sock, and most of all, the sage and wise surgical sock with the chevron treads.

Only a quiet sob was heard and then there was silence.

Reference:   Christmas in the Sock Drawer

Samuel and the Play Date

What does eating a sandwich tell about you?

Anxiety vibrated in the air as Samuel’s mother knocked on a red door.  The door was opened by an equally anxious, smiling nervously mother.   Ah.  So this is the ‘play-date’.  Interesting…

Two more mothers called out, and Samuel was dragged into the tv room where three other bewildered children sat.  Legos and action figures lay scattered around them.  An offering of some sort, obviously.

“Now, let’s have lunch!”  Someone announced, and the four children were plopped down at a child’s table in their colorful chairs.  IKEA…

Plates of sandwiches and potato chips were slid in front of each, and juice boxes (straws inserted) were set down.

Silence, long and drawn out, echoed as each child sized the other up for reference.    

So much can be learned by the way one holds a juice box, how one sucks on the deadly straw.  How the sandwich is held speaks a world of information.  Blue iced cupcakes are not meant for just eating.

By lunch’s end, it was clear:  Samuel was the Alpha, Charlie the Omega.  Clarisse—sassy deceptive girl—was a she-devil.  Buddy was easily manipulated.  The game is afoot, friends.

We love IKEA!

When the front door closed amid tears and apologies after the play-date concluded, much had happened.  The leather sofa had been stabbed to death with the plastic juice box straws.  The blood red juice stained the carpet in big drops.  The dog cowered beneath the sofa, shivering in his blue icing stripes.

So much more could have been done.  Samuel waved to his new friends. Another day?