The Hearth Broom Flyer

I marched into the living room, ready to tackle your grand notion about flying Molly to school on a broomstick. Right beside the brick hearth stood a stiff-bristled hearth broom with a turned birch handle. That was plenty good enough for our flight! I hauled Molly down from her teacup lookout, hoisted her onto the broomstick right behind me, and told her to latch onto my waist. Planting my buckled shoes, I gripped the wooden handle with both hands and launched into a running swoop across the braided rug. We banked around an armchair leg and touched down with a crisp thud right before three stacked encyclopedias. School was officially in session!