Where does your lap go when you stand up?
“Shhhhhh,” I shushed the line of twenty-two as we passed the library.
Walking backwards, I opened the exterior metal door with a push from my rear. Warmth, sunshine and fresh air danced on and around the children as they fidgeted on the yellow paint line.
“Go on!” I said with a wave of my hand.
Children raced towards the swings, slides and metal rungs with pounding feet and flailing arms.
One tripped.
Skinned knee.
I’d developed a script for minor injuries — with my index finger transformed into a magic wand.
“It’s okay sweetie. There’s magic inside of you! The nurse will clean your owie and cover it with a band-aid. You won’t need it for long. Your body is already working to fix itself from the inside out! In a short time — hocus-pocus — the owie will disappear!”
Later on the carpet in front of the rocker:
Criss-cross applesauce, hands in your lap!
“Mrs. Boenning — What happens to our lap when we stand up?”
“Our bodies hide it in a secret compartment. To bring it back, just sit down — you are filled with magic!”
*Thanks Jack Herlocker forthe question!
