Back in the olden days of yore my brothers and sisters and I were pirates.
We made lists of treasures we wanted to find like a red rock, bird feather, gum wrapper, paper with writing, a coin, etc. and then we went on treasure hunts all over the neighborhood - a race to see who could find all the treasures first.
Or we would find stick swords and challenge each other to a duel and we never poked anyone's eyes out like mom said we would do if we played with sticks.
If we were Winter pirates I would make my younger siblings walk the plank into an area rug sea of sharks and somehow they would always escape the sharks and push me into the area rug sea and pile on top of me and tickle me...a punishment far more severe than sharks.
And in the olden days of yore when my brothers and sisters were cowpersons (actually we were all, boy or girl, cowboys) we would find the perfect sticks, point them at each other and run around the yard after each other shouting "bang, bang" because we didn't have cap guns like the neighbors. And no one ever got hurt. And we all had lots and lots of fun.
And then we all grew up into old people.
And the world around us grew politically correct.
And I have to tell my grandkids not to eat their toast into the shape of a gun because it might poke someone's eye out or, even worse, they might be expelled from school.
Making Happy Blocks and remembering some happy times.