Barbie Jeeps

Maybe it's the weather. Something about this time of year, where it gets just a little bit colder every day, but not cold enough to warrant the full on Michelen-man winter coat, makes me think of the days I spent playing outside with all the neighborhood kids.

This weather was perfect because the combination of a light jacket and constant running kept your body temperature just perfect. The air was crisp and cold and felt good in your lungs. Gone was the dry hot Texas summer, replaced by the crunchy leaves of fall.

On my way home from school, I pass this little quaint house where two small children live. Many afternoons, they're playing in the limited but present backyard their middle-of-town location provides them. Their house is always decorated up for the holidays, currently displaying an array of pumpkins and turkeys.

My favorite playtime game to watch them engage in is the wonders of the electric Barbie jeep. Those little cars were the greatest thing ever when I was younger. Everybody wanted one. I never had one, but had friends who did, and their usefulness was never taken for granted. I watch the siblings squished into the seat, driving forward and then reversing in a slight semi-circle, laughing with pure joy. They couldn't be going more than seven feet, but their imaginations were taking them much further.

I miss those days when an electric powered Barbie Jeep and a fall afternoon were all I could've hoped for. Driving past them in my real life, gasoline powered car capable of traveling miles and miles, I envied their ability to go five feet and have great fun.

I miss playing on the jungle gym behind my house. On Base Housing, they installed random playground equipment in the grassy part between the houses on every block. Our block just happened to have an old, silvery steel jungle gym--my mom viewed it as public enemy number one. She was utterly convinced this jungle gym would cause us great bodily harm. Her favorite was "you will fall and get your mouth caught on one of those bolts and it'll rip your face clear in half!"

While that possibility was remote at best, one of my neighbors (a much older boy might I add) fell off and broke his arm. Of course, Mom was totally vindicated and we no longer had a good argument against her irrational prohibition of the beloved climbing apparatus. We still played many a game on it when she wasn't home, and it remained forever "home-base" during spirited games of tag. But eventually the powers that be over Base Housing also ruled the gym unsafe and had it removed.

We were forced to relocate to the rickety swing set behind my friend's house that Mom didn't know about. Oh, there's a good story on that swing set. I shall have to save that one!

I'm not sure how this went from talking about little neighborhood kids to the significant playgrounds in my life, but I do want to go outside and play now.