the tree kangaroo book

I almost donated these blank books to the school. I've been cleaning out the house in preparation to move, and they've been the recipients of a lot of good things--yarn, ribbon, extra art supplies, office supplies, and these were there, in the box, until the suggestion was made: let's make a book. In this house, making a book really means making one.

I'll order more, but Maya's already asked to start in on a second, so it seems we'll need a good stock, and I have skittering ideas on how to use them with her classmates down the line.

My mother picks up discards from her school's library and brings them to Maya and Finn. She especially keeps an eye out for good narratives and books about animals. She gave them to Maya in the car and Maya devoured them.

 

"Mama, did you know that--" and the car filled with the noise of her discovery through image.

When we got home, she took her favorite pink pen (because it's mama's favorite sort of pen, which means she delights in using the "special pen," as she calls it) and began drawing. My mother listened as Maya narrated and she transcribed: A baby tree kangaroo is the same size as a bee. I want to write a poem with that line.

Her current fascinations are, of course, the animal world and its intricacies, and especially, as is evident here, bulbs and root systems and rain and thunderstorms and mothers carrying their babies and nipples with which to feed them.

I love her so much I feel my heart could burst. Absolutely swell until there's nowhere left in my chest to go.