Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Winter Wonderland
Max has the heart of an explorer. I've mentioned before Max's fascination with Africa and India, Australia and Madagascar. Lately, Max has been ruminating about Antarctica. He recently chose the icy continent as the theme for his next birthday party. (How, exactly, I'll pull that off in a sweltering Houston September is anyone's guess. I'm willing to bet, though, that he'll have generated a dozen new themes before we have to lock in on one for good.)
A few nights ago, Max asked me to help him fashion penguins out of plain, white printer paper. After a few lame attempts, I asked him to bring me a picture of a penguin. He fetched the children's atlas that I'd given him for Christmas and turned to the pages featuring Antarctica. When it comes to art, I do better with a "go by." Penguins, it turns out, are wider than I'd imagined, with thinner wings (or are they flippers?). In any event, I churned out a few plump birds before Max requested one sliding on its belly. I managed to improvise a little.
Next Max asked for snowflakes. Last winter, I discovered a fine set of instructions for making paper snowflakes. While most of the process is beyond Max's abilities, he loves to execute the final step himself, carefully unfolding the crisp seams to reveal a magical, lacy hexagon. We cranked out a half dozen paper ice crystals in short order.
Now satisfied, Max disappeared into his room, emerging only to ask for tape. After awhile, my curiosity got the better of me and I headed down the hall. From his doorway, the fruits of Max's labor were evident. Across the far wall in purple crayon was an arctic landscape, dotted with penguins. And on the downhill side of a snowy mountain was a horizontal penguin making like a sled.
"My room is Antarctica!," Max exclaimed proudly. "Will you hang the snowflakes over my bed?" That night, Max slept in a winter wonderland of his own making.
A few nights ago, Max asked me to help him fashion penguins out of plain, white printer paper. After a few lame attempts, I asked him to bring me a picture of a penguin. He fetched the children's atlas that I'd given him for Christmas and turned to the pages featuring Antarctica. When it comes to art, I do better with a "go by." Penguins, it turns out, are wider than I'd imagined, with thinner wings (or are they flippers?). In any event, I churned out a few plump birds before Max requested one sliding on its belly. I managed to improvise a little.
Next Max asked for snowflakes. Last winter, I discovered a fine set of instructions for making paper snowflakes. While most of the process is beyond Max's abilities, he loves to execute the final step himself, carefully unfolding the crisp seams to reveal a magical, lacy hexagon. We cranked out a half dozen paper ice crystals in short order.
Now satisfied, Max disappeared into his room, emerging only to ask for tape. After awhile, my curiosity got the better of me and I headed down the hall. From his doorway, the fruits of Max's labor were evident. Across the far wall in purple crayon was an arctic landscape, dotted with penguins. And on the downhill side of a snowy mountain was a horizontal penguin making like a sled.
"My room is Antarctica!," Max exclaimed proudly. "Will you hang the snowflakes over my bed?" That night, Max slept in a winter wonderland of his own making.
1 Comments:
What fun! Have you photographed the Antarctica scene? I'd love to see it!
Do y'all have a copy of Harold and the Purple Crayon? Max is part of a fine tradition.
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