Owl!

Fiona spent the better part of the day making clay sculptures to give to family and friends as Christmas presents.  She has an impressive inventory already lined up to dry, as she begins to think about who she wants to give what to.

"Mom, what would Uncle joey like best?  A sculpture of me?  No.  That's weird.  A monster.  A monster?  I'll make him a monster.  Aaaand, Aunt Rachel.  What should I make her?"  I am beginning to see the hint of crazy in her eye.  You know, the one where everything gets really serious and focused?  I try to reel her back in.

"Well, you made a few owls here that are pretty great.  What about an owl?"

"Uhhh, owls aren't her thing.  She needs a guitar with a smiley face.  I'll make her one of those."

She writes "RACHEL GITS GITAR" on a piece of paper.

"And Uncle Josh?  What does he like?", face scrunched up, pencil under her chin.

"Hmmm, I think he'd like any one of these cute guys you've already made.  After you glaze them, they'll be beautiful!  I know he'll love it."

Here it comes, "Mom!  No!  We can keep these or give them to people who like- you know, people who don't care about stuff- they can get these!  I'm making stuff especially for that person.  I'll think about Uncle Josh later.  Aunt Jackie?  She likes cats, right?  You once said... 'Jackie likes cats'.  I know you did.  She'll get a cat.", as more notes are being taken.  I don't recall ever mentioning Aunt Jackie's love for cats, but I'm sure she wouldn't object to a cat sculpture.

"And Uncle Nat?  He DEFINITELY gets a gun."  Gun.  Check.  (He's in the Air Force.)

"Oh, wow.  A miniature clay gun?  By an eight year old?  I dunno... maybe an owl would be nice instead."

"And Mike- Mike, Mike, Mike.  He's hard."

"No he's not!  He's eight, like you!  Whatever you like, he'll like!  Don't over think it!  Give him an owl!"

"Okay, okay.  Mike... gets... a... owl...", she mutters under her breath as she scribbles it onto the same piece of paper.

And as though she'd been planning this one all year, she says, "Mr. Jake will get a taco."

"Why are you going to make Mr. Jake a clay taco?"

"Because he's Mexican."

I was afraid that was why.

"Fiona, go with the owl please."