Frozen water pipes Cortes Island circa 1950

I just finished my biddling around housework and am asking myself what to do next and feeling irresistibly drawn towards the new Journal or mayhaps another seam or two of my new shirt, howsoever I will fill the wondering time with a line or two to you. The curses are standing on cardboard cartons nosing around the counter. Pretty soon one will collapse and they will howl or find something splashy or breaky and I will have to remove them but let's not borrow trouble. I just went and put the brats on two eggs to coddle and they are slugging and guzzling them down. A gory mess but like I say, let them be.
The G.D. pipes froze up three days ago and the boys can't find where. There is 600 feet of pipe which is a lot of digging and Jimmy is furious. I am washing out baby stuff here and there by hand but life is very difficult. I hope it doesn't last much longer. I'm afraid they'll say that it's all so frozen they will have to leave it until they thaw out by themselves. Can't even let the kitchen fire get too hot in case the tank gets overheated and bursts. However the front room fire keeps going and with the kerosene heaters in the bedrooms we keep warm enough.
Barbie hurt her hand or thinks she did and is showing it to Nancy. Nancy rubs it for her and says poor little kid about 60 times. She also rubs her other hand and goes to the extreme of trying to tell Barbie she is going to call the hospital. They are very amiable with each other but daresay it is but a passing phase. A while back Barbie was in the car pushing herself back and forth with her feet. Nancy came along and draped herself across the radiator and Barbie happily pushed them both along, still with her feet.

Barbie & preschool circa 1950 Mom's letters

Breathes there a mama so baffled, so beset upon as the mama of a lonesome preschooler?  I think not.  For the mama of said lonesome pre-schoolers cannot knead a dough, beat a batter, wash a clothe, dampen ironing or toil at any other such task without great gobs of chatty hindering help from the lonesome little one.  And patient as the mama may be about being helped and even though she reads “Porky Pig” aloud fifty times a day, the child is still not content and would much prefer it were Saturday and Big Brother or Sister were pushing the pre-schoolers head into a mud puddle.  And, besides always the mama knows that some day soon there will be that icy plunge into grade One and better mama’s apron strings be loosened beforehand.   
Which leads up to the fact that five of the beset upon mamas of lonesome pre-schoolers are doing something about the situation.  We decided to hold a play school four days a week at one another’s home.  

The kids love the Play School and crabby is the kid who gets a bad cold and has to miss a few days.  They get a variety of active play, mid morning cocoa, story time, sometimes records and/or singing, followed by cutting out or plasticine, the latter being very popular.  They leave for home by 11:30.  Little Dinah Armstrong calls it Plasticine School; our Barbie, after her first day or so, said Play School was fun but when were we going to put on a play?  Must have thought it a Junior Little Theatre.