The Return of the "Boo Platter"

I arrive to the elementary school with a giant turtle, Cleopatra, a fairytale queen, and a cat in tow.  We merge with a Rubik's Cube, a jellyfish, and a 1920's flapper.  Today, children will parade around the school and enjoy a Halloween party in their classrooms.

Parents bring treats for these parties, and once again, I feel that old anxiety about baking and creativity.

But my daughter doesn't want what the other mothers can bring.  She begs for the "Boo Platter."  It's the third year of making this platter, and still, she wants it.  The legend of the "Boo Platter" as my most memorable act continues.

I shape the letters and realize I can experiment.  Instead of vegetables, I peel exotic fruits.

I'm giggling as I make this silly old platter that doesn't seem that special.  But for my daughter, this platter means so much.  Now, it's tradition.

It's a tradition that taught me perhaps the best principle of motherhood:  Be Yourself.  You're the perfect mother for these children; God chose you and not somebody else. 

So I'll keep writing.  I'll keep making words for them because they cherish even this little Boo. 

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Journal:  What's something so unique to you as a parent or caregiver?

It Looks Like Cotton

This morning, the snow on the trees looks just like cotton on a hot, blue-sky summer day.  

Cotton or Snow? 

I love the way the mind works by analogy and association.  I know the beauty of this tree branch because of what it approximates:  it's like something else.  Is this what it means to learn?  Is this what it means to make sense of something? 

I know it's freezing out here.  I know the branch icily traps this snow.  There's nothing cotton about it. 

But turning this snow into cotton for a moment brought some joy to the day.

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Journal:  Can you think of a good comparison that brings some joy?   

Perfect Packing Snow (Pictures of the First Snowfall)

It's snowing!  We scatter about the house, looking for mittens and boots.  This first snow, according to the Artist Friend, is particularly generous. 

It falls in great big glops, and so we know we've got packing snow.

You don't need to tell a child what to do in packing snow like this.   

They make snowballs. 

They eat snowballs.
 

They throw snowballs. They attack one another, but then they turn their snowballs into a snowman. 

I loved my brief Autumn, and as I stand at my kitchen sink and look out to the forest, I welcome Winter.  What a generous snowfall; what a generous moment between sisters; what a generous warmth I feel as I look through this window. 

 Living with flair means we embrace this generous winter.

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Have you had snow yet?