The Great Rescue
The boys looked at each other. There were no words. There usually weren’t. They communicated mostly through their eyes. One pair were the deepest brown with pupils of onyx. The other shone bright blue and animated. Sometimes, reminiscent of the old movie portrayal of Neanderthals, they would communicate with grunts and gestures. But usually it was just the eyes. The first small head, covered in dusty blonde waves with skin to match, bobbed around the corner, looking to his right. It was there. His Big Wheel. His prized possession. In Toy Jail. Daddy had taken it away when he’d gotten into trouble. But he wasn’t giving up. It was his and he’d have it back!
Across the hallway, peeking around the other corner, the other head bobbed up, this one covered in snowy white locks contrasting with the tan little face under it. The blue eyes searched out the first stage of Operation Get Big Wheel Back. Stage one, his own most prized possessions, 12 small sumo wrestler dolls. These were the coolest toy because when you fought with them, they got all sweaty just like the real thing! It had been hard to get Momma to let him bring them along, but toddlers have persuasive powers unequaled by even the most highly trained hostage negotiators. Twelve little sumo soldiers stood guard, in three even lines down the hallway connecting Toy Jail (aka. Momma and Daddy’s Room) and the room with with the giant, avocado green, indestructible filing cabinet inside the door (aka Daddy’s Office). The towhead nodded to his friend, Stage One ready. Then he looked the question to his partner in crime, Stage Two?
The sandy blonde head nodded, ready. It had been challenging to get Momma’s thick, heavy, wooden coat hanger out of the closet, leaving Momma’s coat crumpled upon the floor. Even more challenging was the job of placing the hanger, precariously balanced, upon Daddy’s filing cabinet.
The plan was simple. Using a toddler’s greatest charms, they lure a big kid, preferably the 6 year old because she was the whiniest, into the hallway. She stumbles upon the army of sumo wrestlers who attack her sending her flying head long into the filing cabinet. Sister crashes, coat hanger falls hitting her on the head causing her to cry. Mommas rush to her aid, leaving the path to Toy Jail free of parental observation. They rush in, grab the Big Wheel and get it outside before the Mommas even see them. They could count on big sister to cry loud enough and long enough to let them get away!
It was a good plan, the boys reflected from Toddler Jail. It was. One minor miscalculation had hindered their escape. They had failed to realize that sumo wrestler sweat would make the wood floor slippery. And that Big Wheels have no traction on slippery floors. They’d attempted a valiant get away! But here they sat in Toddler Jail, hoping for a big brother or sister to post bail.