But today I learned that the thoughts she communicates aren't always pure, lovely, and of good report.
We were just walking through the door this evening when my cell phone rang. I shut the door behind Allyson, waved absently at Bill, and stood in the back door so I could hear my friend better.
Within moments, Allyson was whining loudly and Bill was grumping, so I stepped onto the back porch to continue my conversation. Even through the closed door, I could hear Bill scolding and Allyson wailing.
When I finished my call, I came back inside to find Bill alone at the kitchen table. From upstairs came the muffled sound of Allyson's sobs.
"What was all that drama about?" I asked.
He explained that Allyson had pulled out a bunch of snacks and was going to pour some honey, but he made her stop. Despite her tears, he remained firm. So she looked him in the eye and licked the top of the honey bottle.
"She what??" I gasped. Now I understood why I'd heard Bill yelling.
"Oh, but that's not all. After her time out, she brought me this..."
When he handed me the paper at the top of the picture below, my eyebrows rose in shock. Hoo boy!
Where did our 5-year-old learn to say something like "shut up"? And how did she know how to spell it? (I was pretty sure Bill hadn't dictated it for her.)
"Where is she now?" I asked, once I'd regained my power of speech.
Bill pressed his lips into a grim line. "In her room."
When Bill opened Allyson's door a few minutes later, she shyly held out the paper at the bottom of the picture below:
|"I Am Soree Thet I Wus Noteye Dadee"|
"I'm sorry," Allyson whispered.
Bill knelt in front of her. "I'm glad you're sorry about being naughty. But why were you acting so naughty to begin with?"
Shrugging, she put her arms around her "dadee", and the last of his resistance slipped away.
Putting Her Talents to Better Use
Thankfully, Allyson usually uses her crayons to deliver more wholesome messages. Here's an example from last week:
After learning to draw an owl in art class, she decided to draw a bunch of owls to sell in our upcoming garage sale.
"I made each picture a little different," she explained. "That way people can pick the one they like best."
"Honey, I don't think people will buy pictures of owls," Bill said.
As I surveyed her work, my heart swelled with pride. "Oh, I think they might," I said. "If I saw a kid selling pictures like these, I might buy one."
"Sure you would," Bill retorted, and I knew he was thinking about my fanatical adherence to the Dave Ramsey budget.
"She can sell them at her lemonade stand," I said.
"Ooh, and this time I can keep all my money!" Allyson's face lit up as she remembered all the cash she'd raked in at our last garage sale.
Just in case the art sale doesn't pan out, Allyson has a few other ideas:
She can give art lessons:
|"Example Made By Allyson"|
(She already gave free lessons to Bill and me, and I have to say she is quite an exacting teacher.)
She can also sell her illustrations to science book publishers:
|"Migration in Owls"|
So, would anyone like to buy an owl picture?