The Dress-Up Box

An overnight visit of the grandkids coincided with a thunderstorm that knocked out our internet service.  That meant no x-box, no Netflix, no computers, no handheld games, and three grumpy kids on a rainy day.  After a spell of tv watching, games and a couple of attempts to make me lose my mind, the little girl came to me with a request.  "Make me a princess dress." she demanded with a smile.


Thinking hard, I rummaged in the back of my closet for something suitable.  My questing fingers brushed something smooth and silky (not my usual blue jeans and sweatshirts).  I grasped the hanger and gave a tug, finally dragging out a brightly flowered, short robe from years ago.  "Perfect!", she squealed with delight, as I wrapped the robe around her and tied the sash.  She turned regally in her finery and strutted out of the room to find her crown (and kingdom).  I watched her swish down the hall and was instantly transported back to my childhood and the playhouse.


Visiting my grandparents was the high point of my summer.  My mother worked and since her parents lived about 3 hours away, short visits weren't practical.  So we often were shipped off to spend weeks at a time with my grandparents, which also helped with summer baby-sitting.  I thought my grandmother was a bit crotchety but looking back I am amazed with her patience and forbearance.


They lived on a street of small houses in the town where my grandfather worked at the telephone company.  Fortunately the street had several families with children about our ages.  All summer we ran and played in a pack of kids.   We not only weren't entertained by the adults we were expected to entertain ourselves invisibly.


We were expected to be out of the house shortly after awakening and remain out until bedtime. We were fed at regular intervals (my grandmother made wonderful cookies that were placed just inside the back door for a quick "grab and go" snack.) but basically we were to entertain ourselves, stay out of trouble, and not interrupt the work being done around the houses.  (Failure to follow this rule often meant being caught and given a job to do.  Consequently, we avoided the houses unless it was a dire emergency!)


The neighbor's house across the alley was home to a girl my age and an unused chicken house.  Since the pack of kids ran to more girls than boys and since the building was in a "girl" yard it became our headquarters.  Boys were allowed or not, depending on what game we were playing.  We spent days scavenging  around the neighborhood for treasures for our new playhouse.  A discarded table with a broken leg was perfectly usable when taped and propped against the wall.  A rejected bucket became a seat, a crate another seat, and so on until we had "furnished" our playhouse.


My grandmother, invited in to inspect our new palace, looked thoughtful and smiled as she continued on to visit the neighboring mother.  Both women were found rummaging in drawers and closets for the next day or two.  Early one morning, while we girls were busy in our playhouse there was a polite knock on the door.  Upon opening the door we were surprised to see the two women standing outside.  Arms loaded they inquired if they might come in for tea.  Delighted, we ushered them in.  They deposited their bags and bundles in the little room and started producing their treasures. 


First out was a mason jar of juice, a paper bag of cookies and cups and napkins.   Placing these on the table (after being sure the broken leg was secure) they looked at us and asked, "Don't you think a nice tea like this requires that you dress up a little?"  We looked at our normal summer attire of shorts, blouses, and sandals, and shrugged.  Like magicians, pulling a rabbit from a hat, they started unloading the box they had brought.  Out came dresses, scarves, belts, necklaces, hats, and shoes.  Flowing skirts in bright colors drifted to the floor.  The treasures of their closet cleaning lay awaiting our pleasure in a sumptuous pile.  With cries of delight we were soon draping ourselves in dresses, cinched up with scarves or belts.  A broken necklace became an elegant bracelet, a stained scarf became a perfect shawl, all donned while we clumped around in the cast off high heels. Soon hats and mismatched gloves completed our tea attire.  Never has a tea had such well dressed attendees.


The dress-up box became the treasured start of many adventures that summer.  The  dresses (and a contribution from the men of some suitable boy things) became pirate costumes, Superman, cowboys, Indians, princesses and princes.  Castles were stormed, seas crossed, maidens rescued, rockets launched, bank robbers captured, along with lots of elegantly garbed princesses doing princess things.  Not a day passed without a colorfully garbed character being seen around the playhouse,  generally being pursued by several equally sumptuously attired members of the pack.


No summer has ever been as magical as the summer of the dress-up box.


Maybe I need to clean out a closet or two.