Last Friday, a series of dramatic storms ripped through Minneapolis. Cars floated down Lyndale Avenue in a flash flood, our basement got slightly flooded, and my hair got cut. (That last one is unrelated to the storm but true, nonetheless.)
While Ada and I waited for Dada to either call for a ride from the Light Rail station or walk in the back door soaking wet, we plopped down in the middle of the living room. She, with an array of brightly colored toys in front of her, and I, with brightly colored fabric and ribbons. I sewed (or ironed, cut, and pinned, actually) while she banged her toys around and practiced dropping and picking them up again. And we chatted.
I'm pretty sure she thought that we were playing together, which, in a way, we were. I thought that we were enjoying some mother-daughter sewing time which, in a way, we were. I hope that one day she'll be a willing sewing pupil. We can make beanbags and aprons and doll clothes together. I hope that she will learn the joy of using her hands to transform object, of making use where there was none before. I hope she will be curious about how things are made and want to make them herself.
In the meantime, I used the ribbons and fabric and a plastic bag to make her a new toy so that she can keep playing while I sew. Or so we can play and sew together.
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