The best gift
At a party today in his preschool class, the Man-cub gave me a card he made for me.
And a bracelet he made for me. ("A friendship bracelet," he keeps correcting me.)
There was even a little flower pot he decorated, and some dirt and wildflower seeds that we can grow together.
(He also made the little pom-pom creatures. That's him and me together, he said. I'm not sure, but I think we're standing on a snowboard.)
The Man-cub had painted tissue paper and fashioned it into a flower, which I promptly stuck behind my ear, embarrassing him greatly. (What? Just because the other moms who came to the party didn't know what to do with it doesn't mean I'm the weird one ... uh, right?)
But the best gift was seeing this:
He wrote words! Not just his first name! And to think that last year, he had the pencil grip of a 14-month-old (which is why he has been in occupational therapy for more than a year for his fine motor skills).
If you can't decipher preschooler handwriting, it says, "She is nice to me."
(Comforting, considering he thought I was pretty mean just a couple days ago.)
All of these gifts are things the Man-cub made with his hands, which is a huge leap forward for him. And I appreciate the teachers' thoughtfulness and work in guiding and helping him and the other students to make everything.
Lots of moms prefer gifts made by their kids. And sometimes for moms, the best gift is the progress that children make.