Two little girls from northern Quebec were up early one wintery Saturday morning. They had eaten their breakfast, read some comics, and still their parents weren’t up. They needed something to do so they looked around. Their house was simple and plain. The living room had a red rug which was the despair of their mother as it trapped lint terribly. The brown, nylon couch and chair were scratchy, terribly scratchy,  in the brief summer shorts season. The dining room furniture was on the hardwood – no rug at all – with Grandmother’s piano against the wall. The kitchen had nothing but a gray, arborite table and chairs. The floor there was ….shiny! Like ice…

Hey, Barbie, don’t you think we could go skating on that?…If you think so, Big Sister, I am game. Where you go, I will go. What you do, I will do. If you think we should skate on the shiny, waxed linoleum I will do so. (Ask me to jump off a bridge, O My Sage, and I will, without a thought!) So they put on their ice skates. They couldn’t lace them very well. Their ankles were turning but…they skated. And skated. And skated.

Soon they heard noises overhead. Well, it was about time their parents woke up! Did their consciences bother them? Were they apprehensive? Not at all. They had been so clever to find a way of having fun early in the morning. Closer and closer came the footsteps. Their mother stopped in the doorway. She stood for a moment looking at her clever little girls. Then she sat down and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Until she had tears in her eyes.

It could have become a terrible memory. But a mother’s sense of the ridiculous made it a favorite one, all around.

I thank God for such a mother!

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