>A dream has come to fruition. A long awaited, anxiously anticipated, often, uh . . ., dreamt about dream. Zoey created a piece of art. And it is hanging on our refrigerator. With extreme pride. Seriously.
I am lucky enough to be in a play group with extraordinary women. One of these women is the Craft Goddess (Hi Lauren!). She tries to shun this title because she is modest. But the woman has a virtual craft store at her house and the skills to use the supplies so it’s a little hard to dispute. Plus, once I bestow a title on someone they are stuck with it. Yes, I have that kind of power. So anyway, last week play group was at the Craft Goddess’ house. She had sent an email out telling us we would be attempting a Thanksgiving themed craft. This was a first for playgroup. And to be honest, I thought maybe the standards were being set a tad high. I mean, sometimes I don’t even really clean for playgroup let alone plan an activity.
But we showed up. And we crafted. And it was perhaps the finest moment of Zoey’s young life. She made a total of 3 turkey master pieces (2 for the grandparents and one for the Mami). And, man oh man, was the kid proud of herself. She carried those turkeys around like she had won the Nobel Prize. She handed them to The Grandparents with obvious appreciation of her own artistic skills. Zoey was thrilled when I hung her art on the fridge. But then, of course, The Grandparents had to one up me and frame their turkeys. But I maintain that they don’t spend as much time admiring their turkeys as I do admiring mine. I stand in front of refrigerator mesmerized by Zoey’s use of color, by the placement of the print on the paper, by the googly turkey eye. I place my hand over her hand print and smile, glad that she is still small and glad that her hand still fits in mine. Glad that it always will.