running with Barbie coatracks

When I was about 5, I played with Barbie.  (Back in the old days, children, she was just called "Barbie."  Not "Nurse Barbie" or "Malibu Barbie" or "Fairy Princess Barbie."  Maybe that's why I get grumpy sometimes.)  I didn't play with them for long; my stupid-little-brother-with-a-doctorate ended up playing with my dolls, which just goes to show...never mind.  There was a period when I was about 12 that my cousins, brother (told you) and I had a LOT of fun building Barbie houses out of cardboard boxes - so much fun that we never got around to playing with them.  But this has to do with a memory from when I was 5.  I was running with a wire coatrack made to hang Barbie clothes on, because everything you do at that age is vitally important and you must get there quickly, when my mom called out, "Don't run with that!"  Huh?  I slowed down, and when I came to a stop I looked at the coatrack.  It was the only thing I was carrying, so it must have been what mom was talking about.  Why not run with it?  Do good little girls not run with coatracks?  Why?  I was clueless.

I was reminded of that episode the other day.  N's dad was talking to me, but I only caught the first part of the conversation because the back of a blond head kept popping up and down behind the dad's head.  I tried to focus, but then I caught the glint of metal.  I looked more closely at N. and saw that he was trying to pop his brother's helium-filled birthday balloon with a long kitchen knife.  And it wasn't the bread knife, it was the long, pointy one.  Yeah, that one.  I started laughing and couldn't stop (heck, he's not my kid).  Seeing this generally happy, sweet boy jump up and down with a large knife trying to pop his brother's balloon while I had his dad's attention really tickled me.  (In case you don't know I'm not a monster, N. is 11 and is an accomplished equestrian with excellent balance and motor skills.  I wasn't worried.)

(When I don't draw legs that means we're sitting.  I am a bit artistically challenged.)

Nick never did pop the balloon, though.  Or maim himself.  So the moral of this story is don't run with coatracks or jump with knives unless you are athletic and my mom isn't there.  You're welcome.