Buttons and Books

My mother was a domestic goddess. She cooked, she cleaned, she repaired. She painted, gardened, sewed, and more.

Me? Not so much, except for the cooking part.

Because she sewed, she always had boxes filled with rolls of leftover fabric. And jars of buttons.

My grandmother had a button can, but her buttons were different. They were old-fashioned country buttons.

Mom's buttons were all different shapes and sizes and colors. Slick city buttons.

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When I was a little girl, Mom's buttons fascinated me. I played with them for hours. They became roads, houses, buildings, cars, trees, people. I made up stories, moved the people from place to place, played all the parts.

After I finished playing, or when Mom said I had to, I had to put the buttons back in the jar. This was fun, too. Sometimes I scooped them up all at once and dumped them back in. Sometimes I picked them up by color. Sometimes by size. Usually she had to tell me to hurry up.

My roundabout way of getting to the point here is that I've always made up stories about people that I made up.

So maybe I should scout around for some old buttons. Next time I have a plot or character problem or wonder what's next, the buttons might close the gap and keep me on track.

Did you play with buttons when you were a kid?

What was your favorite pretend toy?

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By the way, today is Book Drive Day over at Margo Kelly's blog. Zip over to see what she's doing for Columbia High School and how you can help.

Happy Monday!