Button on a String

Today's button is big, solid- a button to steal from the button box for games. Button, Button who's got the button - I really did play that game in my youth, but this button begs to be strung and pulled back and forth on a string  held by pulsing fingers until it sings out.
Every house had a button jar.  Stray buttons, buttons cut off of old shirts and shirt waists before they were cut up for quilt blocks to be used on the next dress or shirt. 
If we found a button we never threw it away we tucked it in our pocket to play with or to drop in the button jar when we got home. 
If Gramma was in a good mood, on a rainy day we  were allowed to dump the button jar out on the kitchen table and sort them.  The big ones, the white ones, the leather ones, the brightly colored ones.  She always knew if we snitched one and put it in our pocket or sat on it til she stepped to the stove to stir a pot that was always bubbling away. We were expected to  climb under the table and feel with our hands for any buttons dropped in the play. 
If you lost a checker you could pick a red or black button to replace it on the board but it couldn't go away in the box, it had to go back to the jar. 
It was often Gramma who taught us to play the button games, who helped us thread the big fat buttons like today's button with string.  
Heavy cotton string was plentiful in our household. It tied pot roasts, tomato plants, and brown paper wrapped packages. As kids we used it for Cat's Cradle, Button on a String, and once in a while to set a trap under our bedroom doors to see if our snoopy brothers or sisters were sneaking into our rooms. Our mothers often found buttons and strings in our pockets when they did the laundry, tucked away and forgotten once the rain stopped and the sun came out and we headed outdoors for bigger and better games.