(My gutsiness is rather minor, today. I learned a new word. But I will attempt to use the word in this post when possible. Here we go...)
Today I spent the day babysitting a neighbor's child, who is five, and we'll call him Choo Choo (for he has an ardent love of trains). Choo Choo and I spent the afternoon eating sandwiches, discussing the merits of certain types of podracers, and conducting toy trains to our heart's content. But, most importantly, we engaged in that sacred architectural rite of passage: the building of a blanket fort in the living room.
It seems that every time I go over to Choo Choo's house, there's a new opportunity for building a blanket fort (in between fearing for his mother's various bibelots around the room when we spar with foam cutlasses). While I position chairs and the couch and the ottomans he grabs several armfuls of pillows and blankets for our construction site, and we go to work.
There's a very scientific approach to building a blanket fort. It requires something tall enough to drape over for the ceiling and a good anchoring piece of furniture in the center, as well as a an object heavy enough to keep the blankets in place. The size and type of blankets and pillows is also very important, as well as the positioning of couches and chairs for maximum tunnel-and-corridor value. I like to think I've become fairly proficient at building quality forts, but I also had lots of childhood practice. It's an important skill.
Sometimes I think that's where canopy-top beds came from. People just couldn't let go of how cool it is to lay under a blanket fort. I think sometime soon I shall make a blanket fort in my own living room and just hang out in it. Why not?
Drat. I only used my new word once in that whole explanation. Alright, that means I'll have to be heavy-handed. I give you...a drabble (100-word story) using my new word. Enjoy.
She opened her hands to show him. “It has very special value to me.”
“I’m not sure I understand you,” he said, staring at the object in her palms.
A smile. “You have no heart, that’s why.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” He kept staring at her hand, as if hoping it would explain itself. “Is there a reason you’re doing this?”
Two smiles. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He didn’t think so, but why should he? He was the one without a heart. And why not? It was sitting in her hand.
He was wishing she hadn’t taken him so literally.
That ended up a little more...morbidly romantic?... than I was expecting...but yay! A drabble using the word bibelot! Okay, as the title, but the point is still there, I think. Here's the definition, according to dictionary.com: "bibelot: A small decorative object without practical utility; a trinket."
I'd forgotten how hard it is to write drabbles. Keeping yourself to 100 words is ridiculously hard!
Good news: FebNoWriMo is coming up on Monday. We'll see how it goes.
Go make a blanket fort, and use the word bibelot in everyday conversation. Good stuff...