We needed clay so we walked to the art shop, and on the way pulled leaves out of hedges, and on the way back caught the bus because when you are little that is exciting. We warmed the clay, rolled it out and pressed our stolen bounty into its flesh. Dillon armed with a sculpting tool carefully carved around the leaves and bore a hole at the top. Laying them onto the baking tray, and steering them into the tepid oven.
Once cool the hardened leaves and beads were laden with paint. There is something so satisfying watching kids paint. I will never tire of this, watching them deciding on which colour, the swirl of the brush in the pigment, and then the brush stroke. Swooosh! The gloop, the strands in the mix of colour, the almost unconscious mark of the beginner. The mini maestros at work.
And then the linking of elements. We divided our hoard into two piles. His and hers. Along came the string and together we threaded them on, one after the other until there were none. They couldn’t believe their hands could produce such wears. Squeals from the little one, the anticipation in the knowledge of what was to come. Over their heads the looped string slipped and sat upon their shoulders. Unable to conceal their mirth, they danced around the room. So there you have it… fine treasure fit for mini dancing maestros!