Today, as I put on my running shoes, I noticed that one of my socks had a face and some stripes drawn on it. In Sharpie. A reclaimed sock puppet, apparently.
These moments are frequent. Lucy thinks everything in this house — be it a sock, a medical bill, my work notebook — is just material for her art. The other day she put together a car/”speeder bike” using a security dowel from one of our windows, an Ikea stool and many, many Band-aids. I cannot argue with her ingenuity. But after a cooking injury last week, I did have to bandage myself with Scotch tape and some random gauze I found (given to us to treat Milo’s circumcision scar?), because we had no Band-aids. Someone is going to suffer for her art.
At least her version of the Speeder Car did not involve a rolling swivel chair placed at the very top of the sloped driveway with the youngest brother as passenger…
Oh NO. Which tree did they hit?
omg. this post made me laaauuugghhh…
I love it. She is so creative. Maybe vis-a vis rather than sharpies. They wash out.
Mom