Paper Trains

My kidlets have discovered the joys of scissors and glue. Combine this with a stack of old catalogs and plenty of construction paper, and you will soon see why our house almost always has particles of cut paper on the floor. Today, each kidlet was absorbed in his or her own creative process instead of working together to form a family set of crowns, masks, or aircraft carrier.

My girls worked for a while on their cutting and pasting, then put away their glue and went off to work on other endeavors. Pig Jr., on the other hand, spent the vast majority of the day with construction paper in one hand, scissors in the other, and glue dripping down onto our leather couch.

Normally, my little boy will create these massive configurations of...something. I have no idea what they are, but they will have numerous cut out construction paper parts, about twenty pounds of glue, and look like something even the cat would refuse to drag in. He is incredibly proud of himself for his not-quite-sculptures. All I can say about them is that I am glad I still buy him water soluble school glue because these suckers, should their glue ever dry out, would be plastered on my coffee table until kingdom come otherwise.

Today, Pig Jr. asked me how to spell "twain." Figuring he was not referring to Samuel Clemens, I directed him through the letters t-r-a-i-n. This is a relatively new phase he has entered, where he requests we help him spell a word or two to describe his creations. I'm thankful he has started doing this, as it makes it that much easier to rave over these gluey masses while using appropriate terminology. It is much harder to ooh and aah when you think something is a dog and it is, in my little boy's eyes, a tractor trailer. When Pig Jr. asked me to take a look at what he was making, I at least knew what I was supposed to call his work of art.

I was surprised. He actually created something that looked like a train, complete with glued on wheels, a smokestack, and a Thomas-esque smiling face. Pig Jr. was in the process of gluing "twoublesome twucks" onto a coupler sticking out of the back of his engine. After another hour or so of work, my son had created several cars that were coupled to the back of his engine and coal car. He had picked up on details that I probably would have glossed over, and made something that would have been identifiable even to someone who was unable to read his scrawled handwriting that proudly declared his work of art to be a t-backwards r-capital A-i on the next line-capital N to the left of the i.

I went back later to try and save that project for posterity and was unable to locate it. I am assuming that he thought his recycling-happy mother might get rid of it unless he hid it away somewhere. Yes, I know I do not like papers all over the place while we try to sell the house. This, however, was special. This was the first piece of artwork that my son created completely on his own that was complex, well thought out, incredibly detailed for a four-year-old, and took him hours to create. I do hope I will be able to find it tomorrow and at least take a picture of it. I can respect his need to keep it hidden away from me, especially given my track record of removing thousands of papers from kidlet rooms in order to keep the house neat. Pig Jr.'s "twain" must be allowed to survive.