As usual, Boo and I spent the better part of her playground hour performing most of The Wizard of Oz for the assembled sparrows and a couple of snickering teenagers.
Somewhere along the yellow brick road, she found an orphaned tire from a toy car and a gnarly old twig, so naturally she tried to assemble the two into Glinda’s magic wand.
These two particular artifacts were never intended to mate, so Boo insisted that I break out my adhesive tape (I taught outdoor ed, remember, so I’m never without first aid supplies).
With several sticky feet unrolled and applied to said wand, Boo finally felt ready to show off her creation.
I’m not making this up; I’d be ashamed at the saccharine script.
Boo, to five-year old: “Look at my wand!” Shows off her slightly spooky oddball creation.
Five-year old: “Eeew. I have a wand at home. You press a button at the bottom and it says the magic words!”
Boo, plainly aghast at the idea of a wand saying its own magic words: “But I made this wand!”
She takes after me: we may suck at practical fabrication, but that doesn’t keep us from trying.
And the wand (though it smells a little) now has pride of place on Boo’s dresser.