Over the years, my daughter, Emma, has developed into a decent artist — I should have anticipated it from her pre-elementary habit of spilling soap on the floor on purpose to “finger paint” in. She’ll spend hours a day on projects, often going down to the littlest detail I wouldn’t even think about.
I like to think Emma and I have a fairly good relationship, all things considered. But between school and my work and other obligations, our time together can be pretty limited. Limited income puts a restriction on how much we can get out of the house to do things, too, so especially in the winter, it’s a challenge to be spontaneous and have some fun together. And because my husband can be more patient and mirrors her night owl nature, I’ve sometimes felt like he’s her primary parent.
But a few weeks ago, she presented this to me:
Making unicorns, night after night
The little house started completely bare, a miniature she found at Hobby Lobby. But then, for weeks, she’d stay up at night, meticulously painting. She made little stairs of paper and a set of tiny unicorns with her 3D pen.
I don’t pretend that this little project would end up in a gallery or go viral — she’s made prettier and more impressive things, if I’m totally honest. But her intent was to make something I’d like and could play with.
She knows I like miniature things.
She knows I like unicorns (they’re the anti-thesis to the world being gross and spoiled).
She knows I’ve had a lot of stress, and she genuinely is trying to give me a way to have some fun before I completely forget what it’s like to be silly.
The whole thing was her giving what she had to make me a little happier. And unlike the classic macaroni pictures most parents get from their kids, this wasn’t something she just cranked out in an hour. She persisted with it.
That’s kind of a big deal, when somebody repeatedly does an act of service for you.
It shows the relationship isn’t fluff.
Assumptions, they be pew
I keep the little unicorn house on my desk now, right under my computer monitor. Emma has plans to add studly male unicorns to the collection (apparently in her head the current ones are all female…?) so I can use the gift to simultaneously play and, in my writerly fashion, make fun of all the usual romance book tropes.
I might mess with it once in a while, as she intended. But mostly it’s my little reminder that sometimes people care more than you think they do. It’s my call to not assume what other people feel or the degree to which they feel it. I hope, as you finish this post, it serves those functions for you, too.