Poppy’s school bag was a bit bigger today. She and Jack plonked their stuff on the kitchen floor and Poppy smiled at mum. She said in a slow, low, mysterious voice, “You’ll never guess.” Mum chuckled. “Of course,” she said. “Mums can never guess.” Poppy said, “Well, I’ll show you.”
She carefully dipped deep into her bag and yanked out a long floppy thing. “It’s this!” A scarf! A curling, snaking, stretchy scarf. It was yellow and blue and orange and green and dark black and soft and cuddly. Mum said, “Oh.” Jack grabbed one end and said, “Look closer, Mum. It’s special. It’s got electronics.”
And sure enough, when mum bent down to look there were little electronic things in the scarf. Some small beady lights. (Jack said they were LEDs.) And short, flat, golden wires. There were some square black things like thumb nails. And along one edge, tiny tiny batteries. Mum pushed her hair back and said, “Wow. What is this thing, Poppy?”
Poppy was jigging and jumping and squealing with excitement. She said, “Mum, it’s my project. I made it.” Jack was spinning around and he said, “It’s going to fly, Mum! Fly!” Fly? Mum didn’t know what to say. She stepped back and scratched her head. Jack and Poppy were laughing now. Poppy picked up her scarf and said, “Mum, our teacher showed me what to do and it flies. It’s got electronics. Watch this.”
She went and stood in the doorway. Looped the scarf around her hand, reached back and threw it into the garden. Up it went. High and twisting and turning. And then mum gasped! The scarf didn’t fall. It stayed up. It lifted. It glided. The scarf was flying; snaking and twirling through the air above the garden. Poppy yelled, “See that, Mum?” Mum said she was seeing it but couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Then the scarf began to sink. Poppy said, “It’s descending.” Jack said he didn’t know about that but anyway the scarf was coming down to the ground. It was. Slowly, slowly it was getting lower. Then it was on the ground, between the cabbages, and Poppy raced over and picked it up.
Mum was very, very puzzled. She said, “How does it work, Poppy?” Poppy said her teacher had helped her and it was AI or something. Mum said, ‘wow’ and that dad would be amazed to see it when he got home. Jack asked if he and Poppy could go and fly it before dad arrived. Mum said, “You mean, go up the hill and fly it?” Poppy and Jack laughed. “Where else!” they yelled and raced out the gate, along the footpath and up the hill.
Jack called out to Poppy, “I know where to fly it!” Poppy said she knew too. And they panted and puffed and rushed and up and up they went. Until they came to the spot. Right on the edge of the hill. Poppy peered over and said, “I can see our house!”
Jack nodded, but he was looking around at the spot. He asked, “Is it going to be big enough?” Well, it was a little small. But it was flat, there was grass and around the edge there were little bushes like a hedge. Poppy said it was probably big enough, but they’d have to be careful her scarf didn’t get tangled in those hedge bushes. “The prickly bits might damaged it,” she said.
But Jack was busy unrolling the scarf and didn’t take much notice, so Poppy just shrugged and helped him get ready. She grinned and said, “This’ll be a test flight, Jack.” He smiled. “It’ll go like a rocket. You just wait.”
Then, the scarf was ready. Poppy carefully coiled it up in her hands and went to the edge of the grass. Jack said, “Watch out for those hedge bushes.” But Poppy just smiled and reached back and threw the scarf up into the air. Up it twisted. It turned and drooped and swished and glided. “It’s flying!” Jack squealed. And it was. It swooped and climbed and spun and all its colours blinked and flashed in the sunlight. Poppy thought it was just amazing. Awesome. And then the snaking scarf turned one last time, came gliding down towards Poppy and slid to stop on the grass at her feet.
Jack and Poppy could hardly believe it. “Jack, it flew!” Poppy clapped her hands together. “Like a rocket!” Jack said, and he picked it up and reached back. Poppy told him to be careful of the bushes, but Jack just grinned and threw the scarf up into the blue sky.
It went screwing and tumbling and dancing up and up and around. Jack and Poppy yelled and scampered. The scarf was flying! It was hovering and glopping above them like … like it was alive. Down it came. Poppy had a turn. She threw it back up. It twirled about and then down it came. Now, Jack made it fly. Then Poppy. And again. And again. Until Jack flopped onto the grass and said he was totally puffed. All that excitement.
Poppy said she’d have one more turn. “Watch those bushes,” Jack murmured. But Poppy was an expert now and she just made a face at him, reached back and threw the scarf up towards the sun. It climbed and wiggled and somersaulted and did a dive bomb and turned.
Suddenly Jack jumped up. He grabbed Poppy’s arm. “No! It’s going too close!” And it was! Instead of gliding down to Poppy the scarf was going the wrong way. It was racing towards the bushes. “It’s going to crash!” Jack yelled. “Stop it!” Poppy rushed over and jumped as high as she could. But the scarf was too high. Jack leapt and made a grab, but the scarf twisted away from him. Poppy tripped. She crashed into the bushes and disappeared in a heap of scratchy branches and leaves. Jack jumped one more time but the scarf swerved out of reach and threw itself into the furthest bushes. Gone.
Jack looked around. “Poppy. Where are you?” A small voice from inside the bushes said, “I’m here.” And with a shake and a flurry she came struggling and panting out onto the grass. “Phew!”
She looked around. “Where’s the scarf, Jack?” Jack didn’t know. He said it was somewhere in the bushes, but Poppy knew that. She shook her head and said, “We’ve got to find it, Jack. We can’t lose it. It’s a flying scarf!” So they pushed against the sharp prickly bushes and look and peered and squinted. But they couldn’t see it. They looked again. Then in some other bushes. Nothing there either. Poppy was taller so she made herself longer and did the best looking she could; right over to the very back bushes. But still, nothing. The scarf had disappeared. It was gone.
Poppy felt a sad lumpy feeling in her throat. Was it lost? Was it tangled and trapped out of sight inside the hedge bushes? Would they find it? They had to find it!
Then Jack gave a little yell. “Poppy. There it is!” She spun around and, yes, there was the scarf. Wrapped around some sharp prickly branches at the very back of all the bushes. She and Jack did a little we’ve-found-it dance. Jack said he’d have it out in no time. Poppy told him to be careful. And together they pressed and reached and stretched out their hands towards the scarf.
But their arms were too short! They couldn’t touch it. It was out reach. Poppy felt another sad lumpy feeling coming up her throat. But just as she was about to ask what could they do Jack said they’d need a stick. A special stick or a branch. And he went looking for one.
“Here you go,” he said a minute later. “This’ll do the trick.” He’d found a long, straight branch. He leaned over the prickly bushes and carefully moved his stick towards the flying scarf. Closer. Closer. Poppy squeezed her hands together and squinted her eyes hard. The stick went nearer. It was nearly touching. Closer and closer. Poppy clapped her hands together and gave a little squeal. Nearer. Then the stick touched! He’d got it!
A big smile spread across Jack’s face and slowly he drew his stick back and up, and there on the end was Poppy’s scarf. Safe. Rescued. Poppy was smiling now and she gathered the scarf up into a tidy bundle. “No more flying today,” she said. Jack said. “Yes. We need to get your scarf home safely.” So the two of them set off down the hill. Slowly this time. Down and down, onto the footpath, through the gate and padded softly into the kitchen.
Mum turned around and asked, “How did the flying go?” Poppy held up the scarf and told her what had happened. How they’d lost it. She said, “Mum, it was so sad! But we looked and searched and peered and finally Jack saw it!”
Mum gave her a wee hug and said that reminded her of the famous story Jesus told, about a lady who lost some money. “Remember reading that together at bedtime?” she asked. “The lady looked and looked until she found her money.” Poppy said, “I remember. She did a lot of looking.” Mum nodded and said, “Right. She did. And if you and Jack would like to look in the cake tin over on the table … you also might find something.”
And they did.