There are moments when my kids wow me. This picture is my three-year-old's rendering of a bride doll. Don't worry...I'm not about to take you point-by-point through the drawing to prove she is an artistic genius. (That goes without saying, right?) It was not Clare's skill, but the reason why Clare drew this picture that amazed me.
Several weeks ago I wrote a post about reading The Story of Holly and Ivy with the girls. The book truly made an impression on Meg and Clare because they have continued to talk about it. In the book, one of Holly's companions in the toy shop is a bride doll. Meg and Clare--who love all things feminine and frilly--have asked about the bride doll several times. One day they asked me if I had a bride doll when I was a girl. I responded, "No, I don't believe I did. My sister had one, but I don't think I did."
Clare--who had the mindset of a middle child long before she was the middle child--interpreted this statement to mean I had been slighted. She thought it terribly sad that my sister was given such a beautiful doll and I did not receive one myself. (To be clear, I don't remember ever wanting a bride doll as a child and I most certainly haven't been holding a grudge about it for thirty years.) To make me feel better about this perceived injustice, Clare went to work on her masterpiece. After a great deal of work (including those awesome scissor skills you can see around the edges), Clare presented me with my very own bride doll.
The bride doll drawing now sits on my bedside table. It reminds me that Clare, who sometimes drives me crazy whining about all the slights against her throughout the day, is also on the lookout to remedy injustices (real or imagined) towards others.
Several weeks ago I wrote a post about reading The Story of Holly and Ivy with the girls. The book truly made an impression on Meg and Clare because they have continued to talk about it. In the book, one of Holly's companions in the toy shop is a bride doll. Meg and Clare--who love all things feminine and frilly--have asked about the bride doll several times. One day they asked me if I had a bride doll when I was a girl. I responded, "No, I don't believe I did. My sister had one, but I don't think I did."
Clare--who had the mindset of a middle child long before she was the middle child--interpreted this statement to mean I had been slighted. She thought it terribly sad that my sister was given such a beautiful doll and I did not receive one myself. (To be clear, I don't remember ever wanting a bride doll as a child and I most certainly haven't been holding a grudge about it for thirty years.) To make me feel better about this perceived injustice, Clare went to work on her masterpiece. After a great deal of work (including those awesome scissor skills you can see around the edges), Clare presented me with my very own bride doll.
The bride doll drawing now sits on my bedside table. It reminds me that Clare, who sometimes drives me crazy whining about all the slights against her throughout the day, is also on the lookout to remedy injustices (real or imagined) towards others.
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