Way back in the fall of 2007, Ava and I were doing a bit of early Christmas shopping and had stopped for a play break in the children’s museum that is Pottery Barn Kids. After completing two loads of laundry, whipping up a tasty bowl of butternut soup, and taking a pint-sized baby for a spin in a pint-sized stroller, Ava spied a child-sized sewing machine and raced over to give it a try.

From a distance, I thought it might be a toy version of a sewing machine like the make-believe kitchen we had just spent the past thirty-five minutes in. As I crossed over to Ava, I found that she was fully engaged with a real machine with real needles, levers, bobbins, and thread. This was not for three-year-olds.

“I want to sew, Mama!” she cried as I began to pry her away from the machine.

“I know, Ava, but this is for big kids. This is not a sewing machine for little kids.”

“But, Mama, I want to sew. I want to sew something.”

I explained to Ava I would help her sew something at home, and that this machine was just for people to look at and not for a child to actually sew on in the store. Of course, I had no idea that what I would help her sew or even that she would still want to sew once the machine was out of view.

Yet, “I want to sew” continued to roll out of her mouth all the way out to the car, down the street, into another parking lot and through the doors of Panera Bread.

Somewhere between the Frontega chicken sandwich and the chicken noodle soup, I remembered that her preschool teacher had mentioned Ava’s fondness of lacing cards. Then in an instant round of the synapse relay game, I also remembered an image of girl clasping a small felt purse (most likely from the long forgotten Martha Stewart Baby magazines for which we can all let out our collective sighs: one for the loss of beauty and two for the relief of pressure).

“Ava, would you like to sew a purse?”

Her eyes widened as she nodded enthusiastically, “but I don’t know how.”

“Oh, I’ll show you,” I responded as I wiped all trances of the Chocolate Chipper from her lips and hands. We put on our mittens and set off for Joanne Fabrics.

Two months later, Ava presented these Christmas gifts to her cousins, Audrey and Cate:

She was supposed to make one for Naomi too, but her lacing enthusiasm eventually wore off. Fortunately, Naomi is six, the perfect age to learn how to thread a needle and run it up and down some felt.