Children’s Crafts That Perhaps Only a Parent Could Love

Last night was one of those nights. You know the ones. Comprised of an endless series of tossing and turning, flipping of the pillow, and checking of the clock yet again. The body was on power down but the brain was on full throttle.

Why last night? I don’t know – possibly the “bold and powerful” coffee I had mid afternoon.

In the big picture, the reason didn’t really matter. There was no sense zeroing in on a cause because it wouldn’t help the situation. The only thing that would help was for me to not fight the myriad of thoughts currently flashing their merry way through my synapses. I knew I’d fall asleep. Eventually.

My meandering thoughts ultimately landed on the fact I’ve got some pals coming to lunch this Friday. That led to the need for dusting, which led happily to shelves recently cleaned. Naturally, I then honed in on two newly dusted items on said shelves. This was one of them. Can you guess what it is?

I know those of you who were parents in Ms. S’s 2005 grade 5 class will recognise it in a heartbeat. I suspect the rest of you could have a little trouble with identification, so I shall offer up a wee clue. Last week I did a post on one of my family’s rather terrifying adventures. Have a quick peak. Go on – there might be a prize in it for you.

Great guess. Yes, it’s the orca that my daughter Meredith lovingly created for me out of soapstone.

I’d like to say this gem of gems gradually morphed into this.

It didn’t. Cast your eyes upon the upside down numbers etched into this orca’s body. See that dominant pair scratched into the upper left? They read “04.” 2004 was the year this guy sprang into being.

Ok. Time for the big reveal. This one was made by my son Henry in Ms.D’s 2004 grade 3 class. I know. You’re all astonishment. My son is a soapstone carving prodigy at 9. His recent works are now on display at fine museums across North America and London is calling.

Alerts are now flashing around the social media world.

“Mother lies outrageously online!”

Confession time Geppetto.  Most of his artwork that still exists resides in the “Henry’s special crafts” box that lives high on a shelf in my bedroom closet.

In actual fact, Henry shared the task of creating this orca marvel. Of the several who played a role, there were at least me, Ms. D, a student from the naughty boy class and the soapstone provider lady, whose name unfortunately escapes me.

Allow me to sketch in a little background. At my children’s elementary school, Ms.D was known as “the soapstone teacher.” Every year, moms with older kids would wax on about the marvelous creations their children made in her class. Naturally thrilled when Henry was assigned to her for the year, I was one of the first moms to volunteer for “soapstone day.”

I’ll admit I was a little alarmed to learn that the class was to be held entirely in the “naughty boys” room (comprised of students expelled from other schools across the city because of  behavioural issues). I needn’t have been. They proved to be on their best behaviour the entire day.

The minute that Ms. I-forget-her-name-soapstone-provider-lady unwrapped her treasures,  the grade 3s and the naughty boys and all of the moms drew closer for a better look. I wasn’t alone in being somewhat surprised to see the basic orca shape already carved. In addition to the fluke (tail) there was an obvious flipper and a decidedly brazen dorsal fin already in place. The only feature missing? The median notch – that indention that sits dead centre in the fluke.

Oh.

The children’s job entailed crafting the median notch. Using a sturdy metal file. After feverishly filing for a good twenty minutes, Henry handed the job over to me for a spell. The next few hours sped by. Back and forth between us swam his little orca. When carpal tunnel syndrome threatened, we had the good sense to invite a naughty lad onto our team. Brilliant idea. His efforts reduced the work by half.

Pictorial confirmation the median notch was achieved.

The next step was definitely an adult task. The creation of the shine. This occurred as a result of immersion into the mystery liquid bubbling merrily in the one of two frying pans tucked quietly off to the side of the classroom.  After a quick dip, orca was retrieved and deposited  by Ms. D onto an oven mitt. We shuffled into the hallway to begin the buffing process. It radiated heat equivalent to that of a baked potato still hot from the fire.  Once cool to the touch, we sat on the floor and buffed with a tea towel.

The result at the end of the day?

Excellent.

So what’s with the mystery creation pictured in the first photo? Well, the following year, Ms. S, got it into her head that Ms. D shouldn’t have all the glory as the soapstone queen. Her class would carve soapstone as well. Ever the competitor, she sourced an outfit that would provide her with soapstone at a fraction of the price.

Imagine my surprise when she unveiled  solid blocks of soapstone. No fluke, no dorsal, no flipper. Just a rectangular block shape. Long story short, the orcas in her class evolved over  multiple weeks. Of course, lacking the preshaped form, the bubbling magic shine liquid and parental assistance beyond the first day, these sculptures were doomed  different.

However, my girl kept at it. I am beyond impressed with her persistence.

Yes, with just a metal file and a huge dose of stubbornness, (of which both her late father and I were equally cursed  blessed) she persisted and managed to carve out both a chunk from the base and well-rounded sides. Bless her heart. I will never forget her little face, simply beaming with pride, as she presented it to me that Christmas all carefully wrapped up in tissue paper and ribbon.

For the past eight years both have stood side by side in prime viewing position on the shelf. One represents a mutual tireless effort, the other a selfless act of love. I treasure them both.

Thank you Henry and Meredith. Once again, with loving thoughts of you in my head, I peacefully drifted off into sleep.

That’s enough about me and my sleepless night. How about you? Do you have nights where sleep arrives slowly? Have your kids gifted you gems that only a parent could love? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.