My bedroom is currently littered with tiny pieces of bright green cotton interspersed with other colors, evidence of the enthusiasm with which my son decided to help Mommy with her sewing project.
Curly-top came in while I was clipping a seam to make it lie smoothly. “I want to help!” he said. I asked him to hold the end up while I trimmed the seam, so it wouldn’t slip away. No, he said, he wanted to cut with scissors, that being what I was doing. All right. I went and got some good-sized scraps (big enough for quilt blocks) and my spare sewing scissors, explained to him that these scissors were very, very sharp and only for fabric, unfolded my cutting board on the floor, and set him loose where I could see him.
He cut them up for me, with great delight. He asked to cut up scraps of other colors. There is not a piece bigger than ? an inch anywhere. His preschool teacher asked me, very pleased, what had happened to improve his skill with scissors so suddenly, as he’s had such a hard time with the fine motor control needed for cutting. This is also a good thing. But he’s so proud of the heap of bits he created I can’t vacuum them up yet. It’s his monument to his newfound scissors skill.
Anyone need some cotton confetti?