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i'm sitting in the sun
streaming through the window and onto the island in my kitchen
writing up a pattern that i'll soon be able to talk about.
(really soon, i promise)
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my little girl climbs up next to me,
looks at the pencil in her small hand and announces
"this pencil is angry"
"really?" i say out loud
thinking in my head "sweet child"
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then i watch as she draws this:
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"ooh, that pencil does draw like it's angry" i comment.
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"yup."
then there is the tearing of that top sheet off of the stack.
some more drawing follows.
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i'm back to my pattern by then,
figuring she's on to something else
(this topic having now exceeded the attention span of a normal two year old).
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soon it's gotten very quiet,
so i look up.
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she is sitting quite still
looking intently at me (of all things)
holding the pencil quite firmly, like a bouquet of spring flowers, in her closed hand.
"what, baby girl?"
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"it's happy now."
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and sure enough, it is.
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'child' is taken from 20:11 of proverbs.

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