In the life and times of this farm girl I don’t remember being bored. I know hindsight is 20/20, but looking back I don’t know how my siblings and I could have been bored. There was always something to do, whether we wanted to or not.
Spring, summer, or fall, once chores were completed a laundry list of things to do waited. Playing in the Hickory Grove or wading in the creek, calling dibs on the multitude of clubhouses we built in corners of barns, abandoned sheds and once in the unfinished basement. I think we cleaned the basement for a full day preparing that particular clubhouse. No boys allowed, I’m sure.
One might think that winter would damper our play, but when I was little the snow fell freely covering the ground in feet and not inches of white powder. (I think I just aged myself with that statement.)
My Grandma June would be waiting when we got off the bus, her cross-country skis strapped on, poles at the ready. We’d toss our backpacks in the corner of the mudroom, disregard the after school snack and rush through chores. Cross-country skiing with my grandma and mom was always an adventure. We skied until the moon rose some nights, crossing the fields and pastures, sometimes dragging sleds behind us to use on the great hills we’d find.
Unfortunately, winter without snow (which is what we’ve got in Northern Illinois) does breed boredom in some kids, mine specifically. New Christmas toys have already lost their shine and old toys are just . . . old in the waning light of an already grey day.
So this evening when I answered the chorus of “I’m bored” with “Use your imagination” I shouldn’t have been surprised by the result.
My kids opened a bar and grill in the toy room, complete with tablecloths draped over little tray tables, folding chairs set at random and the card table set with glasses, toothpicks, a towel and a line of pop cans, root beer bottles, and a couple Capri Sun at the ready for their first customers.
Raise a glass to the week, and cheers to the weekend!