Fun And Games With Simon

Simon’s (?) Punishment 

The trip to Chippenham had been exciting, and five-year-old Simon had completely forgotten about his Papa’s threat to punish him for snatching the pretty girl’s ribbon (and stealing a kiss..

However, when they returned home, Papa took Simon by the hand and led him to his room. “I’m afraid I only managed to reduce your time to one hour, Simon. Busy yourself, and the time will pass quickly.”

Papa closed the door behind him, leaving Simon to his own devices for entertainment.

First, Simon rocked on the wooden horse his Papa and Mama had given him for his birthday—or was it Christmas? Since they were on the same day, Simon supposed it didn’t much matter. He raced his “horse” Max as fast as he could, shouting “Huzzah!” as he crossed the imaginary finish line—in first place, of course.

Next, he opened the window. Resting his elbows on the windowsill, he cupped his face in his hands and looked outside, where some squirrels romped about in the trees. Simon wished he had claws that grasped the bark, allowing him to make it to the top as easily. Perhaps he should stop Mama from cutting his fingernails.

The squirrels chittered and skittered away, hiding in the leaves.

Surely, an hour had passed?

“Papa!” he called, pressing his cheek to the door.

His papa’s muffled voice answered, “Not yet, Simon.”

Simon stamped his foot and huffed.

He threw himself on his bed, his frustration vanishing when the mattress bounced a little under his weight. If only he could get a better bounce, that would be fun. He needed to land more forcefully.

The curtains fluttered from the breeze at the open window. His bed wasn’t far from the window, and Simon had a marvelous idea. The curtains would help him swing over to the bed.

To be safe, because Simon wasn’t stupid, he laid his pillows down on the floor along the path he planned to travel.

Just in case.

He gave the curtain a tug. Yes. It should work.

On his first attempt, he landed on his bottom about a foot from the bed, and he’d been proud of his idea to place the pillows on the floor cushioning his fall. A few feathers fluttered up in the air around him.

He needed a running start for the extra distance. Wrapping his hands around the curtain, he stepped back, then charged forward. He made it to the bed, but landed face first on the mattress.

With a little more thought, he decided he needed to jump at precisely the right moment. His fourth attempt proved successful, and he bounced on the bed in triumph. In his elation, he dismissed the strange ripping noise he’d heard upon his landing.

Two more successful attempts later, and satisfied he’d discovered the perfect combination of movements to arrive in the middle of the bed where it was the bounciest, he jumped on his mattress in triumph.

Crack.

What was that? Perhaps he’d left one of the blocks he’d snuck in his bed two nights ago?

Ready for a final flight, Simon hoped to break his record for height and speed. He stepped farther back, raced forward, jumping up to grasp the curtains at an even higher spot, and swung forward. A whoop of joy left him as he soared across the space to his bed.

Until the awful ripping reached him. He landed hard, the lace curtains flowing over his head, covering him.

Craack.

With a jolt, the mattress gave way beneath him, half of it falling to the floor and pitching him precariously toward the edge.

Well, he wearied of the game anyway.

Hurried footsteps pounded outside his door, which flew open so forcefully it slammed against his wall.

“Simon!” His papa’s horrified expression said it all.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

Papa drew a hand down his face, hanging and shaking his head. “What am I to do with you, my boy?”

“More time in my room?” Simon grimaced at his Papa.

Papa laughed. “The question is: would it be your punishment—or mine?”