The wicker basket

Dad was holy on his Sunday afternoon nap. It usually resulted in good sports followed by a decent hiding all round. Jack more often than not was the instigator and chief culprit but Tim the least guilty bore the brunt as privilege of the eldest, and then always got the smallest toy in the aftermath.

This unfortunate Sunday afternoon the excitement of the moment got the upper hand once more Jack was particularly provoking and landed up head first in the big wicker basket and he wailing ran to the parents’ bedroom waking up dad who wasn’t in a very good mood that day.

The hidings were measured out with more than standard rage followed by penance of new toys all round. Timmy sadly miserable and dejected admired with envy Jack’s beautiful big yellow and red sand-lorry himself standing proudly hands in pockets, and with Timmy holding his new standard-size racing car we posed for the Kodak snapshot commemorating the occasion.

That evening at peace and in general remorse we all went to bed. Timmy was by his bunk on his knees praying when by accident dad came in and also heard his plea:

“Dear Lord Jesus please change Jack to a good little boy and if you can’t then wipe him off the face of the earth and utterly destroy him. Amen

x

In the dark with the others sleeping I indulged in my best fantasy and secretly smuggled a little girl-friend into the bedroom inside of the wicker basket.

We’d lie in the dark in my soft warm bed and chat all night in giggles and whispers. I’d tell her about how the other night my dad had to storm the front door again right off the hinges breaking the doorframe. She giggled ‘cause he was drunk and he’d lost the key and mom wouldn’t open.

About the day I accidentally heard one of the boys in big school tell his friend that they’d learnt today that ten times ten is a hundred. In the Cressida on the way to her tennis practice I for no reason just announced “ten times ten is a hundred” which upset Verne’s mom quite badly. Verne himself was staring at a girl on the sidewalk as we drove past his mom often warned him that he’d twist his head right off one of these days. So this ten times ten business clearly was a deep mystery and of grave significance.

That I saw this morning the bird bath was frozen solid and remembered that puddle of water I’d discovered next to the road once after the rain with all the colours blending so beautifully and that I wonder if it wasn’t maybe a miracle.

Lucky nobody ever found out about it.

xx

For Sabrina