And the cow's in the moon.

Yesterday morning my entire schedule was derailed by a piece of string. Emily was trying to show me some finger magic tricks with a piece of ribbon, and one of the "moves" reminded me of something. . . .loop around both palms, thread onto your middle finger. . . hmmm.

Cat's Cradle. I was sucked back through the continuum of time (insert cinematic rewind dream sequence) to the playground at Apple Valley Elementary School. G once asked me if, after graduating from the primary grades, I moved on to Sweet Valley High. Apparently all the grade schools in his hometown were named after dead presidents, and he thought "Apple Valley" was quite kitsch. I loved to play Cat's Cradle with colorful yarn.

Talk about simple pleasures. I got stuck at the Candlesticks, and so we consulted both the Daring Book for Girls and then googled. We played for so long I ended up stuffing dollar bills in their backpack for the cafeteria because I had neglected to make their sack lunches. I watched her walk to school with a Cat's-in-the-Cradle string around her neck, ready to instruct her playground chums. I think I shed a tear in that brief cheesy history-repeats-itself mommy moment. (If only she had a perm and teddy bear sweater. . . )

Tomorrow: Chinese Jump Roap.

ERB