A few days before Easter, my neighbor’s daughter Mira, age 5, came over to craft. She made a bunny handprint and was proud of it. But it was only a picture. Then she held it up and asked, “What does he eat?” I wrote a 3 on the page and told her he wanted three…
My nephew Rayan, age 4, and I had just read “Mouse Paint” on a Saturday morning. He wanted to make a mouse. I painted his hand grey, and he pressed it on a plain sheet. The print looked like a grey smudge. He frowned and asked, “Where does he live?” That question gave me an…
My niece Anika, age 2, came over on a rainy afternoon. I wanted to try a handprint butterfly craft for toddlers with her. I painted her hand and pressed it down. She pulled away too fast and wiped the paint on my sleeve. The second print landed on top of the first. We got a…
Last spring, my class kept watching a bee outside our window. I wanted a craft that did more than look cute. So I painted a small hand yellow and pressed it sideways on paper. A fuzzy bee body appeared. The kids giggled. We added stripes, wings, and a big smile. Then each child wrote one…
Last October, my preschool class begged for something spooky. I did not want scary. So I pulled out black paint and white paper. Each child pressed one hand, then the other. The prints looked like wings. Someone yelled, “Bats!” We added ears, eyes, and tiny fangs. Then we hung every bat on a dark wall….
Every June, I wonder what to give my dad. He already owns every golf shirt. One year, my niece pressed her red hand beside a tiny pole. It looked like a flag waving over the grass. We wrote a silly message across the top. Dad framed it and hung it above his golf bag. He…
Last September, my preschool class begged for a pirate week. I had no plan and one big jar of black paint. So I pressed a small hand onto paper, fingers pointing down. A beard appeared. The kids gasped. Then they wanted names. Captain Soggy Sock won the vote. By Friday, twenty pirates grinned from our…
On my first day teaching preschool, the walls felt empty. The kids felt nervous too. So I grabbed yellow paint and a pile of paper. Each child pressed a hand down and watched a pencil appear. Then they wrote their names on it. By lunch, the wall was full of little pencils. Nobody felt like…
Last March, I handed a four-year-old a brush loaded with orange paint. “Press your hand down, with your fingers pointing at your toes,” I said. She frowned. Then she lifted her hand and gasped. “It’s a beard!” We glued on a face and a green hat. Then she wanted gold, so we pressed yellow fingertips…
One rainy afternoon, my niece ran laps around the living room. She was loud, wiggly, and wound up like a spring. I handed her a paintbrush instead of asking her to sit down. We pressed her brown hand on paper and glued a twig above it. She named the sloth Pickle. Then we breathed slowly,…
Last February, I mixed pink paint with white until it looked like cotton candy. My toddler held out her hands like she was catching rain. We pressed them down, and a heart appeared. She giggled and pointed at the middle. “Write something!” So I wrote “Love You” in tiny block letters. That page now hangs…
Last April, my niece pressed her tiny yellow hand onto the paper and squealed. “It’s a baby!” she said. I had just printed my own hand above it, brown and spread wide like tail feathers. Then she wanted more babies. Her little brother added one. So did a cousin. By lunch, one hen had a…