An elderly woman recently exclaimed at the number of "cute things" children have to play with these days.  She and her siblings used to spend hours playing with her mother's buttons or a basket of clothespins.  She said it in a positive light, admiring the creativity of the designs that so fascinate babies and toddlers.  But I say, what's wrong with buttons and clothespins?  It is difficult to examine the level of brain stimulation a child can get from a plastic toy versus a wooden clip.  Perhaps they learn their numbers faster by pushing flashing buttons that sing them.  But I'm sure their imagination suffers.

This is one of the things I like about the country.  There are so many free and natural playthings for kids...well, one kid anyway.  A field just past our manicured lawn has been unused for several years.  It was once part of a huge garden, but now is all long grass matted down, tractor marks, and mole hills.  As the snow left, many small dirt hills appeared on top of the field grass -- soft dirt hills -- warm dirt hills -- inviting dirt hills.

Before I had considered the idea, Eddy had discovered the wonders of our natural sand box.  It's even better than a sandbox, too, with nice, soft dirt instead of course sand, and cushiony old grass around it, woven together like a perfect nature rug.  And it's directly out the kitchen window.

     "Hi, Eddy."

     "Hey, Mom.  I'm digging my cousins."

     "Your cousins are in there?"

     "Yeah, see, here is a daaangerous tunnel, and my cousins are stuck in it, way under ground.  A bad guy put them in there, and I have to rescue them," he said as he rapidly pulled dirt from the mound, flinging it everywhere.

Sidewalk chalk, buttons, swing sets, woods, clothes pins and dirt mounds.  Oh, the wonders of simple childhood pleasures.