As I was ironing last night ( and I do not like ironing) it dawned on me. I remember the days when life was more carefree and sitting for long periods of time watching my mom iron my dads shirts. I was mesmerized by the iron's steam and the way she could make a wrinkly yucky looking shirt into a pressed clean cut piece of homemakers art! I would long for the day she would let me iron just a little bit. I would beg "Mommy , can I do it just once?" she would say "no , this iron is to hot and your to little". The mystery of not knowing what it felt like to hold such power in my hands would drive me nuts. To the point I would pretend! I saved my pitiful little chore money and saved for a plastic iron and ironing board at Kmart! I couldn't wait to get home and iron my dolls clothes the day I got one! I felt so happy and liberated, but not for long. I realized that this toy wouldn't really banish wrinkles in my dolly's clothes forever. At first I really believed it would, yet in spite of it not being real, I still enjoyed playing with it. But also even still, I sat once again in a chair "far away from the hot iron" watching, waiting for the day mom said I was big enough to handle an iron. Now years later, as I press shirts for my own family, I do not feel as liberated as I was when I was carefree with my plastic toy iron . Now I finally have what I wanted . I can iron with a real iron. I hold the power to banish wrinkles and make something yucky look pretty. Now I no longer care. How ironic.
Hi I am Suzie
Welcome to SuziesView. Join me on my journey of fun, faith, entrepreneurship, product reviews, travel & food! Ok so everything.
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