I walked past Chris’ big ole popcorn bowl this morning, wondering why it was over in the toy corner (but not at all surprised that it was). It was a bowlful of bright needfuls---yellows and reds and purples, and crayons to create your OWN hues if you found these lacking.
The tumbled poufs lay scattered on all the solid bits, like fuzzy clown noses strayed into a games closet, but quite at home. And all the Play-Doh utensils had left the little yellow tub to join the crowd, mingling happily into the mix.
I just took a good look at the no-rhyme-or-reason little jumble, and realized that the reason was quite obvious, and the rhyme scanned perfectly:
In addition to the BRIGHT of the thing, there are tools for crafting and creating, crayons for hours of picture-making, bits of flotsam for creating flowers and animals and bugs. There are game parts for sharing time with a friend, (and even the prospect of dinner if you like that sort of thing, for I’ve often been presented with a tiny covered pot at tea, and I opened it to find a delicious Cootie-feet soup, made just for me).
They all abide there quite happily (Chris bought two bowls alike), and are just the neatest little morality/life lesson---unlikes abiding side-by, with creativity and nourishment and friendship and the primary-color palette of childhood joy.
And just ‘cause it makes you happy.
That’s an ode to something good, if ever there was.