Uh. . . Happy New Year, everyone!
A bit late in the game, I know, but I've been sorta anti-bloggy this fortnight.
Not a lot to write about - I mean, there's always the weather, but why give it more air time than it's already had (and doesn't deserve)? I guess I could sew something and talk about that, but my sewing machine and I are currently estranged. And I've lifted all cardboard sanctions until the kids agree to throw out more of our old cardboard stuff to make way for new.
So I've been reading instead. It's nice to feel somewhat literate, even if I'm reading way below my recommended reading level (they're children's books). I've also been mending clothes (hence the aforementioned estrangement).
In the midst of all those bleak midwinter happenings, however, I've been hanging out with Kate in the afternoons when she's done with kindergarten and before her older sisters return from school. I've also been hanging out with Bunny, who is Kate's best friend.
In case you'd forgotten, this is Bunny:
I never thought making a rabbit would also mean making an entire imaginary world that included scrapbooks, food, furniture, clothes, and a passionate devotion that resulted in Kate sometimes begging to bring Bunny to the most unfeasible (and sometimes unhygienic) places just so they could stay together.
"I did that?" I'd wonder to myself. "Did I make that happen because I sewed some fabric limbs and ears into a toy?"
No. Kate did it - she and her mind and her heart and all the rest of her being.
Incidentally, Kate has already made end-of-life plans for Bunny: she's been scrutinizing Bunny's fur with the assiduousness of a surgeon, diagnosing that mange (from being washed too many times) = imminent death and, therefore, I need to get to work making a Replacement Bunny ASAP.
Someday she will be all grown up. She will look back on her fantastical kindergarten years in disbelief and, understandably, accuse me of gross exaggeration or a bad case of SappyMotherlitis. So I thought I'd record it here, because these are beautiful days and bring me much (bittersweet) delight at the thought of how simultaneously charming and fleeting they are.
One of her earlier Kate & Bunny books:
Very spartan, plot-wise. Almost like a memoir and caption in one.
Here's a more recent one, that she started in school.
|The BUNNY made a gingerbread BUNNY. He popped out of the oven. Stop! Stop!"|
|The gingrbread BUNNY Ran fRom the Bunny the cat and the dog. "Stop! Stop! Stop . . .|
And just like that, she leaves us with a cliffhanger.
(I've gotta make her finish that book.)
Last week, we made clothes for Bunny from old leggings and scrap knit. I'll show you how in a later post. Notice that Bunny looks a little less pristine than when I first made her - evidence that she is indeed much loved.
At her behest (and somewhat bossy dictation), I drew three pages of Bunny Necessities & Accessories. She spent her post-school afternoons this week coloring and cutting them out,
and keeping Bunny gorgeous, entertained, socially connected,
and not starving.
As I am writing this, Kate has just made a paper mobile for Bunny's crib (Bunny needs a nap because she didn't get enough sleep the night before because she didn't eat enough food at supper and had to sneak out of bed to get carrots from the fridge).
Do your children have stories like these? Or am I the only mom lucky enough to watch what innocence looks like, played out day after day in her living room?
Here are our coloring sheets -
we thought other Bunnys (and Bears and Dogs and Cats and Dolls) might enjoy having their very own electronic keyboard, cellphone, MP3 player, wall art, cosmetics and food buffet. Grab your camera, fellow parents- someday when your little ones leave days like these behind them, you might be glad you did.
P.S. For more Adventures of Bunny and Kate, see this post.