Button button, who's got the button?

Button, button, who has the button? Oh, where can it be?
I have to find it, I have to find it, If I could only
Johnny holds his hands so tight, Mary will not tell,
Jimmy looks as though he might, They’re hiding it so well
Button, button, who has the button? Oh, where can it be?

.... Verna Meads Surer

I woke up this morning and made my way to the couch. As I looked towards the entertainment center, my eyes fell upon a cute little stuffed snowman that my sister made many years ago. I realized how happy it makes me that he can sit looking at me and smiling at me, simply because my sister decided to sew some buttons onto the space beneath his hat. I have always liked buttons - especially old ones, like these:

I used to have old tins of buttons, some as full of lint as they were of buttons. Now I have just one jar of buttons. Many of them are in tiny envelopes with thread to match some item of clothing that I may or may not still own. 

So, here I sit, thinking about buttons and how they really don't look like much just on their own, but they can become the best part of a jacket or favorite blouse. A missing one can result in an often procrastinated task - sort of like those loose ends we have already talked about.  Mostly though, I remember Frosty - with his button nose - and how buttons are almost always associated with cuteness - such as our little grandson William who we think is cute as a button.