Fun And Games With Simon

Simon Gets An Eyeful And An Education

Simon had been a perfect angel for one whole week after the episode with his defective bed. Not only quite an accomplishment, but a record! Mama even had the cook make a trifle, Simon’s favorite sweet as a reward.

He’d been so good, in fact, that when several of the tenants’ sons knocked on their door, asking if Simon could join them for play, Papa smiled and agreed. Odd, but a strange look came across Papa’s face and when he glanced at Mama, Simon swore Papa winked. And did Mama blush?

No time to think about grownups!

Simon raced off to be with his friends. They climbed trees—and no, Mama said Simon couldn’t grow his nails to be like the claws of a squirrel—played makeshift cricket with a stick and a rock, and later the stick had become a sword as the boys pretended to be soldiers.

Exhausted, they lay on the ground, staring at the sky. “Let’s go fishing,” Edgar, one of the boys, said.

“We ain’t got no poles,” Toad said. Todd was his real name, but with his bulgy eyes and flattened nose, Edgar had laughed and called him Toad, and the name had stuck.

“My papa has poles,” Simon said, eager to do something other than stare at the clouds. He jumped to his feet and raced back toward the house.

He barreled through the front door and rushed past one of the maids, who had paused in her dusting to give him a stern look. “Wipe your feet, Master Simon!” she yelled.

But Simon didn’t stop. He was on a mission. First, he ran to the larder. Close to the back door and by the kitchen, Papa had sometimes dropped his poles there when he stopped to store the fish he’d caught. Simon peeked around a tall set of shelves but found no poles.

Simon put his hands on his hips and snorted. “Hmph.” Where else could Papa have left the poles? Not wishing to waste more time searching, Simon decided to go right to the source. He would ask Papa.

Back to the front of the house he ran, and the same maid scowled at him and complained about his muddy shoes. “No time, Maisie. I have to find the poles!”

“Poles?” she called as Simon bounded up the stairs to find Papa and, by association, the poles.

First, he checked Papa’s study. Many a day Simon found Papa huddled over the ledgers for the estate. Then, when Papa would suggest Simon stay and learn about managing things, Simon would run off and hide. He peeked into Papa’s study.

No Papa.

Next, even though no music rang through the halls, Simon checked the music room. Papa loved to sneak in there and stretch out on the large sofa and take a nap. Simon stamped his foot when Papa wasn’t there either.

Where could he be? He ran downstairs and out the back door. Why hadn’t he checked outside before? Papa loved to sit in a big chair out in the back and smoke his pipe. The door slammed behind him, but Papa’s favorite chair was empty.

“Master Simon?” Cook poked her head out the door. “Whatever are you doing?”

“I’m looking for Papa.”

Cook chuckled and shook her head. “Come in and have some nice shortbread biscuits. Fresh from the oven.”

How had Simon not smelled the biscuits? Tempted, he remembered his promise to Toad and Edgar. “Don’t have time. I have to find Papa and poles.” He raced past her back into the house.

One last place to check. Papa’s bedchamber. Perhaps Papa decided to sneak a nap in his bed rather than the sofa.

Up the stairs he ran and headed straight for Papa’s room. Maisie yelled again, but Simon didn’t care.

Why was the door closed?

Simon shrugged and twisted the handle, pleased that the door swung open.

“Papa?” Simon froze. His little mind stuttered on the sight before him. Papa had Mama pinned down on the bed. Mama was moaning.

Why were they not wearing clothes?

Papa’s head jerked up, his upper body twisting around and his gaze landing on Simon. “Simon!”

Mama let out an “Eeek!”

Simon pounced on his Papa. “Stop hurting Mama!”

Mama tugged the counterpane over her. “He’s not hurting me, Simon.”

Simon slid off Papa and frowned. “Then what are you doing?”

Papa’s face reminded Simon of how he felt when he was caught pilfering biscuits. His mind shifted. Those biscuits did smell good.

“We’re, um . . . wrestling.”

Wrestling. That sounded fun. “I want to wrestle, too!” He started to climb into bed with Papa and Mama, but Papa reached out and stopped him.

“No. This is adults only wrestling. Why aren’t you playing with your friends?”

He struggled to remember why he had searched for Papa in the first place.

Oh, yes. The poles.

“We want to fish, and I need the poles!”

Papa hung his head and sighed. “Wait outside, and I shall fetch them for you.”

Hours later—or so it seemed to Simon—Papa, now dressed, opened the door. “The poles are locked away in the shed, Simon.” Papa held up the key. “You must promise me to take good care of them and return them in the same condition.”

Simon nodded his head furiously, still wondering about the odd wrestling match. “Papa, are you angry with Mama?”

Papa shook his head. “Not at all. I love her very much.”

“So you were wrestling for fun?”

Papa chuckled low, mumbling something to himself that sounded like, “Fun until you interrupted.” Then he met Simon’s gaze. “Yes.”

“But why didn’t you have clothes on?”

The sigh Papa released sounded heavy to Simon’s ears. “I’d hoped to have this conversation with you much later.”

“What conversation? Aren’t we going to get the poles?”

Papa shook his head again and laughed. “We are.”

After fetching the poles and tackle basket, Papa made Simon promise to take good care of them, but also not to come back to the house for a long time.

The tackle basket bounced against Simon’s leg as he raced back to his friends and left Papa behind.

“What took you so long?” Toad asked.

Edgar threw a rock in the river. “We thought you forgot about us.”

Simon handed the boys a pole, and as they dug for worms, then baited their hooks, he told them about his search for the poles and Papa and Mama’s strange wrestling match.

Toad laughed and shook his head. “They weren’t wrestling, Simon.”

Although Toad wasn’t the brightest of Simon’s friends, he was three years older, so Simon leaned in and waited for Toad’s explanation. “Remember when Mr. Dobson’s ram got into Mr. Potter’s pen of sheep?”

Simon’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

And when Simon returned to the house much later that day, he planned to tell Papa he had no need for the conversation. But he did have many questions.