Pink Buggies and Sunflowers

The pattern of childhood in my housing complex was the same for every child. It was predictable and comfortable. There was the opportunity to become independent and self reliant because mothers didn't need to hover over us. There was safety in numbers. My days were filled with mud pies, tea parties, and buggies. All day everyday buggies and babies. Up and down our sidewalks. No one ever wanted the day to come to an end, and this is when things would get ugly. Instead of the sound of those buggy wheels you would hear screaming and kicking and dragging. My mother did not tolerate misbehavior in public. She had more creative techniques for getting me inside. I would hear our screen door bang close and look to see my mother standing holding a fly swatter that had a big plastic yellow sunflower attached. It only took one time to be swatted by that sunflower to know that when I saw it, she meant business. I got the reputation for being such a well behaved child that didn't have to be dragged home kicking and screaming. My mother often told me of the time one mother entangled with her child screamed down the sidewalk at her "You think you are so sanctimonious because you don't have to drag your child in the house." "Thank you Mrs. Smith. Have a good evening!" My mother was always polite and kind. In my grade school years my mother covered our den furniture in bark cloth that had great big sunflowers on it. Come to think of it, I was always well behaved. Maybe the key is sunflowers!


I love this picture because in the background you can see the sledding hill where I won my races against the mean boys. Post Script. There is a mean boy standing behind us. He was forever stealing our buggies from us!