Now you know from my last post that we were away for a weekend recently, but reality hit HARD when we got back.
There was one thing we (read, “I”) had neglected to remember while luxuriating in the Jacuzzi…
THE WIGWAM.
Before I begin my rant, I WILL say that there is no one to blame for this one but myself. Through fatigue, excited anticipation of a great weekend away, and a sprinkling of denial, I neglected to give not one tiny shred of thought to…
THE WIGWAM.
On the Wednesday preceding our little getaway, #2 unearthed an assignment sheet from her school folder, & jammed it into my hands.
#2: “We have to build a wigwam! With real sticks and stuff!”
Me: “Oh, sure! No problem!”
(translation: There’s plenty of time! Husband will totally handle that one!)
Now as a former educator, I will be the first to say that I appreciate the value of interdisciplinary education; all children have different learning styles, and with a variety of modalities, it enables all children to find their learning niche.
But as a parent, how about NO!
You weren’t with me as we delved into solar systems. Shoe box suburban dioramas. Or the infamous 2nd grade Leprechaun Trap Project.
Build a trap to catch a leprechaun, they said.
It’ll be so much fun, they said.
They LIED.
Two Leprechaun Traps later, I learned. Oh, I learned. I learned that #3 would not be building a Leprechaun Trap, because he would be taking #2’s to school instead.
Because after the hours of cutting, fretting, gluing, re-gluing, and rushing out for last minute supplies for #1’s, I cursed the day that #2 brought home the assignment, and we did it ALL. OVER. AGAIN.
And maybe #3’s remnants won’t cut it by the time #4 needs to make one, but I can tell you for sure that #5 will be bringing in #4’s.
Don’t judge me until you’ve made one. Or three.
Mock now, but I’ll be thankin’ me lucky charms when #4’s turn comes.
We arrived home to #2’s reminder. The wigwam project, remember? The one due in less than two days??
Oops.
So The Captain and #2 left to buy materials. This is happening, mind you at 5:30pm on a Sunday. The call comes in at 5:50pm (store closes at 6).
The Captain: “Um, yeah. Michael’s has nothing left. And what was there cost a fortune. So… she’s out of luck.”
Translation: “I bought nothing. And that’s ok, because I’LL be at work tomorrow.”
Me: :” I…. don’t…. under…. stand….?”
Translation: “Are you %&$^ kidding me????”
- Problem #1: I’m not really the “crafty sort”. Nope. I don’t loom. I don’t sew. I don’t knit, or bead, or “craft”.
I’m impaired in all things crafty.
- Problem #2: The wigwam was to be made of natural materials. As in, sticks. Bark. Roots. Pebbles. Things found outside. And these outside things were now blanketed in a thick layer of snow.
We made the return trip to the craft store, where we acquired all means of tiny Native American figurines, grass paper, some bark-like wreath thing, and too many dollars later, hauled our goods home.
Now for the natural stuff… and yes, I’ll remind you that I’m not the nature person in the family, remember?? That would be The Captain. You know. The guy that loves nature. And projects. He who was.not.home.
If my neighbors ever had any doubt about my sanity, I’m sure the sight of me carving bark off our trees with a kitchen butcher knife was not reassuring.
We peeled the root wreath into strips to create a frame. Or tried to. Over. And over.
We shaped it like the diagram. Only… was that a wigwam, or a teepee? What’s the difference between them? A thorough Google search and a desperate classmate call later, the cone shape was determined to be valid.
Suck it, teepee purists. We were on a deadline.
Next was the gluing of the bark to the frame.. Maybe the Native Americans didn’t glue their bark, but you know what? Their loss. Deadline, remember?
Then came the gluing of the pebbles. Then the gluing of the people. Then the gluing of the animals. The pond. The fire. Our fingers. Some of the table. An unfortunate sibling passing by.
And finally:
We coasted on (hot glue) fumes to a finish. And #2 triumphantly carted her project off to school the next day, beaming.
… with dried bark already peeling off the wigwam.
Let’s hope our trees grow enough bark back for next year’s wigwam.
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