My children gifted me with planted flowers in pots they decorated for Mother's Day in their Sunday school class last May. The plants are 'full sun' tolerant, but the trouble is our extreme heat. They withered and had to be watered daily. I replanted them in a bigger bin and they have thrived. It makes me happy to see them brightening our front porch.
I was gloriously loitering around the drugstore yesterday morning when I found the above toy and bought it for myself. (Have you ever gloriously loitered? If not you should try it.) I was relishing my return to stay-at-home-parenthood, sans any kids during school hours, and was able to make my necessary purchases without the usual distractions. What are the usual distractions when I have to foray into a store with my offspring? Pressing requests for junky toys or foods we don't need; appeals for the latest and most aggressively marketed man-scented personal care or acne products; pointing out racy, potty-humored or noisy greeting cards; and the list goes on. Now you might understand why an opportunity to shop alone is a big deal for me.
Anyway, I found this Matchbox car and I had to have it. Matchbox cars were among my most favorite childhood toys. I think I liked playing with them and my Barbie Dolls with equal enthusiasm, though not at the same time, of course, nor with the same playmates. How many roads or block garages did my little brother and I make for our cars? Many afternoons were spent low to the ground, scooping out mini-highways with our hands in the dirt and pea gravel of the "driveway" of our parents' little summer place. Ahh, I remember it well, it was a cozy little corner spot near a big lake and a small Pennsylvania town.
On Sundays after church our good-natured Dad would take us to the general store where Matchbox cars were displayed in a window case. I know we anticipated this nearly weekly ritual as we would pick a new little car. Good days and good times. I found a picture of the same store.
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