Gifted

My four year-old loves to make "creations."  Sometimes these are rocks or bark she finds on the playground.  "Look, Mama," she'll say as she presents them to me.  "I made this creation for you!  It's for your birthday party!"  It doesn't matter how close someone's birthday may (or may not) be for her to present them with a creation for their birthday party.  Other creations involve paper and yarn and random items from her classroom at daycare, all adhered to one another with the careful employment of a glue stick. 

"Emilia, are you ready to go home?" I asked.  I retrieved her lunch box from her cubby and it had the familiar heft of being filled with rocks.

"I'm ready," she said.

"We're not going to bring rocks home anymore," I said.  "The rocks need to stay outside, that's their home."

"Ok," she agreed, though we've had this same conversation a hundred times.

"Do you have any creations today?" I asked.

"It's in my pocket," she replied.

"You have a creation in your pocket?"

"Yes."

"But you don't have any pockets," I said.  She was wearing the child's equivalent of yoga pants, nary a pocket in sight.  I noticed then that she looked a little lumpy around the crotch area.

"Sure I do," she said.  With that, she pulled down her pants and undies to reveal that she'd store a small plastic ruler with yarn glued to it in her underwear.  I think she's gifted.