Precious intentions of a child.
Our home is peacefully melodic. A quiet rustle of my tidying. A faintly perceptible 'snip, snip' of child-size shears cuts construction paper in two rosy hues. Sounds of content occupation.
Upon our kitchen table, momentarily an artwork artplay table, rests a wood box of rainbow papers, small scissors and our daughter's elbows. 'Snap, snap'. Her stapler. She leans back thoughtfully to surmise her paper play, the culmination of her rhythmic 'snip', 'snap' in silent pause. She smiles.
I see all of her sweetness made into her paper flower. And in her smile.
