I have good intentions. Still, why is it that there are certain things, sometimes the most important things, that can turn out so horrific? I start well. Holding the vision in my head of exactly how I want the thing to turn out, what it will look like. Like the life-sized, anatomically correct frog I tried to make for fun size, that was anything but cute and sweet looking. And yet, other things I have made turn out so well….?
I know of no explanation for this mystery, but it certainly changes the course of history.
I could see it in my head — so simple, so perfect, and yet it all went so wrong. I found that frog the other day, buried in the bottom of a toy chest. Now, he kind of looks charming, if not for the scared memory of knowing I let my little boy down. I think he was actually embarassed to take it to school for the mandatory project.
And, this he endured…It’s all actually quite comical.
So, when the baby brother came up with his turn to make the infamous 5th-grade life-sized animal project, Fun Size vehemently told him, in no uncertain terms, “Make a worm. Any other animal that you think you want is going to turn out bad because it’s so much harder than you think it’s going to be.”
How cynical my failure at sewing has made my children.
Still the baby brother persisted — a penguin. A Humboldt Penguin. He’s making a sculpture. With chicken wire and paper mache. We were quite surprised to learn that the penguin, life-size, is 48 inches.
That’s quite a bit of chicken wire.
And luckily the weather was warm enough to get most of the paper mache done outside.
The Penguin’s name is Pete. And so far, I have stayed out of the project, encouraging him to shape the unweildly nose. I mix the glue with water and collect the newspaper for the paper mache.
The most painful part about the whole Pete thing, so far, was visiting Joanne’s for the fabric. The drive was long. The store was oh, so crowded, full of people that knew things. Like how to be efficient when sewing, and how to thread the bobbin.
We pulled our black fleece off the shelf, and took our ticket, only to find we were number 27, and they were just now calling 4.
After a painful two hour wait, we had Pete’s fur.
The baby is already complaning that I’m not helping him enough…
But maybe, actually, that’s doing him, and Pete, a big favor.
Maybe someday, fun size will see this frog again and think, “there’s that sweet little frog my mom made for me.”