Bean-girl (holding her sippy cup of milk): Milk mommy, milk mommy, milk mommy!
Me: What’s a “milk mommy?”
Bean-girl: Milk mommy, milk mommy!
Me: Is that a mommy made of milk?
Bean-girl: Yes. (pause) But how do we stick the milk mommy together?
Bean-girl: You use branches. You use branches and you put mud on the branches to stick the milk mommy together. Then you cover it with wrapper. The wrapper is very sticky. And the milk mommy is the biggest, greatest singer in all the world!
I swear, sometimes that girl is a Surrealist poet.
She is also an artist. Here is her “art gallery”, a wall of the living room devoted to her art.
Here is “Paper Daddy.”
Here is "Baby Legume."
She’s been meaning to make “Mommy” and “Bean-girl”, but hasn’t gotten around to it.
These works were conceived, directed, and assembled by the Bean-girl. She announced that she wanted to make a paper Daddy, made his wide pants, and then very specifically directed me to cut out the remaining pieces. She then assembled the pieces together with Scotch tape.
Scotch tape is her favorite medium. Scotch tape goes on everything--I find pieces stuck to the tissue box, wrapped around the handle of her toy vacuum cleaner, strips of it on a book. She learned how to use scissors in preschool, and now she’ll spend an hour cutting construction paper into teeny tiny pieces, when she then presses into bands of Scotch tape. Then more tape gets wound around and around the piece. Finally, the whole things get taped up on the wall, as part of the “art gallery.”
And learning to use scissors has been like having the key to the world for her. No longer does she ask me to please open a package of snacks, or a wrapper-encased chocolate. She scissors the treats open herself. Today, observing Bean-girl solemnly cut open a wrapper-encased chocolate with her new left-handed scissors, Husband intoned: “You have a lot of power with those scissors, Bean-girl. With great power comes great responsibility.”
Bean-girl was too intent on her chocolate to pay much attention.