The Saturday When Bricksville Tiptoed into New Homes

On Saturday morning, Julinka woke so early that the sun was still looking for its socks. She sat up in bed, straightened her two blonde pigtails with their pink ribbons, and put on her purple glasses. Through them, her quilt looked a little like a violet cloud. Beside her, Oliver was already on the rug, building a giraffe from bricks. The giraffe had four legs, a long neck, and a bathtub on its head.

“Why does the giraffe have a bathtub?” Julinka asked.

“Because it is moving house,” Oliver explained seriously. “And it does not want to have a bath after it gets to the new flat.”

From the kitchen came the clink of a spoon and Dad’s voice. “Good morning, builders!” Dad stood at the table with a mug of tea. He was clean-shaven, with brown hair swept to one side and grey streaks at his temples, as if two tiny silver caterpillars had landed there. Instead of his usual weekend T-shirt for adventures, he wore a comfortable shirt.

“Are you going to work today?” Julinka gasped. “On Saturday?”

“Only on an important weekend expedition,” Dad said. “I am helping a company that makes brick toys. Their whole town, Bricksville, is moving into new little houses today.”

Oliver dropped a brick. “The whole town? Even the baker? Even the police dog? Even the toilet at the station?”

“Everything,” Dad nodded. “And it must happen without a muddle. If the baker landed in the firefighters’ house and the firefighters landed in the sweet shop, that might still be all right. But if the building instructions got lost in the pond and the train arrived in the mayor’s living room, there would be a huge tumble-about.”

Julinka imagined a train chugging between cushions and giggled. “And what will you do?”

“I will make sure everyone finds the right new door,” Dad said. “First we check the labels, then we carry the little things, then the big things. At the end we ring a bell: now the town can live in its new place.”

“Like when we moved Oliver’s crayons from the biscuit box to the blue drawer?”

“Exactly,” Dad smiled. “Only with more houses and fewer crumbs.”

Julinka and Oliver decided at once that they would be Dad’s helpers from far away. On the rug, they built Little Bricksville. Julinka made a town hall with a tiny tower that could fit only one ladybird. Oliver built a bakery and placed a giant yellow banana on top because, he said, bakers needed a special sign. Then he brought over the giraffe with the bathtub.

“Where will she live?” Julinka asked.

“In the Bathroom Palace,” Oliver decided. “But the palace has no door.”

That was the beginning of their first muddle. The giraffe could not move in because the doors were so small that not even her bathtub could fit through. Oliver suggested unscrewing her neck. Julinka suggested making the bathtub smaller. In the end, they built a great gate beside the palace with a sign: ENTRANCE FOR GIRAFFES, BATHTUBS, AND OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS.

Just then, Dad’s phone rang. He listened, nodded, and said, “Excellent. Bricksville has its new keys ready. And nobody has carried the library away on top of a bus yet.”

“Yet?” Oliver whispered.

Dad laughed. “Yet.”

The morning flowed along like a brick train. Every now and then Dad came to see how Little Bricksville was doing, and Julinka and Oliver reported their news. The baker had a new oven. The mayor had two chairs because one chair had turned into a tortoise. The tortoise announced that it was only a chair on Mondays, so they left it by the town hall.

Then came the most exciting moment. Dad sat at his computer, straightened his shirt, and said, “Now all the correct labels and paths will move into the new little houses. We will be very careful for a moment.”

The children became quiet. Even the giraffe with the bathtub looked tense, although it was made of plastic. Julinka put one finger on the town-hall roof. Oliver held the tiny bridge. Dad looked closely, and then a smile appeared on his face.

“Done,” he announced. “The baker knows where the oven is. The firefighters know where the hose is. The train knows where the station is. And the mayor’s cat has not moved anywhere by mistake.”

“And the toilet at the station?” Oliver reminded him.

Dad looked at his notes. “Right where it belongs. Next to the station washbasin.”

The children cheered as quietly as they could, because they knew important things are sometimes celebrated softly. Then Oliver hiccupped. His hiccup sounded like a little ‘plop!’ and each ‘plop!’ knocked one brick off the bakery’s banana roof. Soon the banana looked like a yellow caterpillar in pyjamas.

Dad closed his computer. “I think Little Bricksville needs one final bit of help.”

Together they repaired the roof, moved the chair-tortoise into the garden, and put a paper boat in the giraffe’s bathtub. Dad gave each child a star sticker. “For calm heads, good ideas, and for not carrying the library away on a bus roof.”

That evening, Julinka took off her purple glasses and Oliver placed the giraffe beside the bedside lamp. “Dad,” he mumbled, “will Bricksville sleep well?”

Dad tucked them up to their chins. “Yes. Every brick has its home, every door leads where it should, and nobody has to sleep in a bathtub.”

“Not even the giraffe?”

“She chose it herself,” Dad said.

A quiet laugh came from under the quilts. Before the moon found its socks, Julinka, Oliver, the giraffe, and all of happy Bricksville were asleep.