Roadkill for Mama

Plain flour check!

Cutting board check!

Cookie cutters check!

Pre-heat the oven check!

Baby Boy with freshly washed hands and the ceremonial apron check!

Ok! Looks like we're good to go. It's another one of those 'coming of age' things at Ms. Mothercraft's house. Baby Boy, who is now 4, is on the brink of being introduced to the fine art of creating salt dough Christmas ornaments. I mix the flour and salt, he adds the water. I explain all about the proper consistency as we get our hands into the mixture.

After a few minutes, he pulls his hands back and gives me that 'Ooooooooow, this is kinda gross' look. I laugh and sprinkle a little extra flour on his hands, "You're suppose to get all gooey like that. We're makin' stuff!", I say. Reluctantly, his little hands venture back in the bowl and he glances up at me as he clumsily attempts to fold the dough. I add a little flour to his hands to keep the dough from sticking. We start off simple, making little round balls and circles. We use a pencil to punch a hole in the forms for stringing a ribbon through later.

So far, so good. Time to move on to the cookie cutters. I show him how to flatten the dough and push the cutters into the dough and lift, leaving a shape just like the cutter. He giggles and says, "I can do it, Kaka" . He gets to pick which ever cookie cutter he wants to use- it's a hard decision. Beat up and bent from years of use, there is a holly leaf and a round circle, a candy cane, a heart and one shaped like a Christmas tree. After alot of thought he picks the holly leaf. Oh great, he would have to pick the hardest one, I think to myself with a chuckle. Baby Boy gently presses the cutter into the dough and attempts to lift but it's stuck. As usual, too much dough around the edges, I guess. I reach for a case knife to pry the dough from the cutter and think how great it is that he's following instructions so well, so I'm startled when I hear big banging sounds. Baby Boy has desserted the disasterous holly leaf and has taken the rest of the dough from the bowl and is beating it with commando chops and going at it pretty hard.

Looking over his shoulder I ask,"Whatcha doin'?" "Makin' something," he replies. I watch closer as he concentrates, his chubby hands molding the dough into a long roll. "I need more of that white stuff", he tells me. "You mean the flour?" I ask. He points,"Yea, that stuff ". I follow instructions pretty well, so I added some of that white stuff to his dough and watched. Flour dust flying, he kept rolling the dough until it was a long thing piece about a foot long and then began winding one end around in a little circle. "Whatcha making", I inquired. "A snake" he replied, very matter-of-fact. "For Christmas?" I ask. Replying in a newly aquired tone that I think implies well,... duh, "Yes, Kaka, a Christmas snake. It's for my Mama." Well now, aren't I the silly one?! Here I thought we were making regular run of the mill ole Christmas ornaments but if there's one thing I've learned with this second generation of kidlets in my life- it's pick your battles, so quickly changing my agenda and totally going with the whole snake thing, all I can think about is- how will I ever explain this one?

Giggling to myself and adapting the Scarlett O'Hara "I'll think about it tomorrow" outlook, I concentrate on Baby Boy's creative genius. We transfer the snake to the cookie sheet but not before Baby Boy gives the snake one more good swift swat with his fist. He turns and looks up at me with the most angelic smile and says, "It got runned over". Priceless! I laughed until tears ran down my face. Creativity is a good thing,...right?

The snake went into the oven and thankfully, gave me time to regain my composure. The table was covered with paper and we busied ourselves gathering paints and brushes. Baby Boy drug his stool to the table, sits down, pushes up his sleeves and announces, "I'm ready!" While the snake cooled we discussed color. "Now just what color is this snake going to be?" I asked. "Green", he replies. I added a tad of yellow and black and red to the pallet and showed him how to dip the brush in the paint. "I can do it, Kaka", he exclaims, so I sit back and watch. Such concentration and technique! I busy myself wiping flour dust from the cabinets as he paints his snake and his fingers. I hear "and this is the blood", so I know he's decided to use the extra colors I left on the pallet.


"Mama is gonna love my snake", he remarks all proud of himself, she can put if on the table next to the Christmas tree.". I'm pretty amazed as I watch this 4 year old add an eye and a smiling mouth on his creation. "He's happy", Baby Boy says,"because it's Christmas". When the snake is dry we add the clear coat for preservation and cut out felt and glue to the bottom so it won't scatch Mama's table. "I need a box, Kaka. Mama's snake needs to be in a box". Hmmm... up to the sewing room we go. Remembering my old purse making days I spot an old cigar box and more felt for the lining.

"I think this will work just fine", I tell Baby Boy. He cuts the felt to fit the inside of the box and gently lays the snake in it's new home. We view our handywork a few minutes. "Doesn't look very Christmasy, does it?" I remark, "how about a bow around it's neck?" "Yea!" Baby Boy, replies all giggley," I want Mama's snake to have a bow!" Moments later Baby Boy's finished creation lay in it's new home, all shiny and decked out for Christmas. "My Mama is gonna love it!" he assures me. "I know she will", I tell him with a smile. After all, how many Mama's do you know that get Roadkill for Christmas?

Merry Christmas, Mama. The Gift's just keep on coming...