Ta-Da!

I am not a born teacher.  I try, for the sake of my children, to let them help with things like washing dishes, making pancakes, and using scissors.  But really, I'm not even good at letting them measure their own flour or crack their own eggs during said pancake-making.  And I generally rewash all of their washed dishes.

Kevin, thank goodness, is the opposite of me.  When he says he can teach our daughter to play the drums, he means it.  He can.  He can break it down into pieces and present complex information in a way a beginner can understand.  Without getting frustrated.  Without just taking over to do it himself when she doesn't catch on quickly enough.  It's no surprise they care more about rocks and maps than about blood and guts.

I have patience issues.

If Kevin could also teach our children to sew and to swim, they would be making their own back to school clothes between swim club practices.  Sadly, children, I'm all you've got.

Last week, a small victory for Greta and I.

The cuts are uneven, but only a little.

The seams are imperfect, but that is my style of sewing too.

She's well on her way to conquering her fear of the sharp, speeding needle.

Ta-Da!  A bag the perfect size for collecting parade candy.