{life with a curious and crazy 10 yr old}
What keeps this gal’s mind churning when she’s cabined up with us old people? Puzzles, games, and Kiwi crates cover a lot of ground (recently we have a glut of geography ‘Atlas’ boxes; we visited Indonesia the other night, resplendent with a ‘batik’ bag and a revving Komodo dragon) but it’s really the cardboard boxes that make this kid determined. I’m sure we’ve mentioned before about her dioramas, her ‘inventions’, her scenes and buildings from all the cardboard that passes through our life. She’s always been this way.
When she was all but barely 2, Josh got some big boxes from work and connected them in the living room – cutting in doors and windows, different height levels, and multiple rooms. She loved it. She painted it all kinds of crazy colors and decorated and lived in it. Not much has changed. When she manages to get a big enough box – she still decorates it, fills it with stuffies and blankets, a lantern, and then coerces the dog (or Daddy) to join her. If a suitable box is not found, she will make sizes of houses for the cat, or her dolls, or the faeries. All painted, some outfitted with furniture. Her inventions are generally some sort of ‘vending’ machine – I think the last one was a nut dispenser, when you put the coins in the slot, individual pecans would slide down a specially made chute. Though another recent one was a ‘cat cloning machine’ – she would shove the cat inside a painted box where wires and magnets whirred on the top and out would pop a ‘cloned cat’ who would promptly run away – the running joke was that I had a closet (where the cat likes to hide) full of grey cats. She’s also making a ‘green screen’ with pencil puppets (faces cut from magazines or holiday paper taped to pencils) and drawing a lot of ‘art’ to sell on Schmee-bay (don’t ask). There are so many things she’s made around here – it’s an entire Duende environment (as I sit here I see dried grass crowns with rosehips, faerie wands made of glitter and sticks, tomatillo paper garland, her new fashion magazine and cover presentation board, she’s also made a Winter wreath for her bedroom door, collages and paintings galore).
When she gets a scenario in her head, she goes all the way, too. Like her marriage(s) to the dog last year and the year before (she set up chairs, an officiator’s podium, made outfits for all of us), her baby showers for her ‘puppies’ (with tea and refreshments for guests, and a gift table!), and she frequently pretends to be my ‘assistant’ and I have to call her ‘intern’ or ‘Emily’ (from Devil Wears Prada, of course, though that might switch to Betty now) and give her impossible requests. When she was 3 or 4, she used to pretend that her whole village was killed and she was a lonely little orphan that we found and loved. This week she is taking me to court because she wants to protest her new bedtime ritual (Josh is the judge, I’m expecting that by the time this takes place there will be an English judge’s wig and robe and gavel) – she tried on her court outfit last night (hat, tie, button up sweater, handkerchief) and is bringing ‘witnesses’. I’ll likely lose this battle.
The truth is, I might (happily and lovingly) lose the war.
Rock Bottom Homestead 