Eight has been a magic number. Ever since my daughter's eighth birthday she has become my buddy. Her moods have evened out, she entertains Danger Boy while I make dinner. Together we cleared and washed off the kitchen table, swept and mopped the floor, wiped down the cupboards and appliances. It was heavenly. I was so tired, but with her help the job I finished a job (mopping the floor) that I had been dreading for longer than I will admit to.
Now she wants to learn to make pillowcases. We went to the fabric store where she picked out some fabric without stomping about when I gave advice on coordinating fabric. Since then she has been practicing sewing straight lines on the sewing machine with scrap pieces of material. As long as she doesn't sew a finger, we'll be fine.
4 comments:
I can't wait until Elise turns 8! 8 sounds magical!
I need an eight-year-old
what a good girl
This doesn't surprise me. All eight were once eight.
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