Last week, Sarah and three other English students wrote a short play that they will be performing today for their class. Sarah’s role is to be an angel which presented her with the challenge of finding clothing angelic enough to suit the play but not so angelic that she would feel a wee bit foolish wearing it around school all day.
And her other assignment? To have at least two angelic props in her possession while acting in the play.
Hence, last night the Smith house was filled with myriad harp designing/building/painting activities, as well as the trying on of various “angelic but not too angelic” clothing ensembles.
At 9 pm, Sarah had replaced her angel garments with her comfy pj shirt, but bed was still in the far away future because there was harp painting yet to be done.
This is the Harp Architect.
He drew the harp out on a piece of art canvas, cut it out with with one of his handy dandy, manly man tools, and then attached strings to the whole kit and caboodle. When Sarah had asked him to help make a harp, she was just picturing one sketched out on a piece of paper with a few strings drawn in for a quasi realistic effect.
However, she had failed to reckon with the fact that her dad is a hands on kind of guy and when someone needs assistance with making or designing something, he is 100% invested in it. (And very, very happy about it.)
And so Sarah’s Harp Production turned into an evening-long project.
But it was worth it.
This morning, our homegrown angel took her homemade harp and flew away to school. (Well, sort of.)
Isn’t the lacey dress a lovely, angelic touch?
The only problem with homegrown angels? When they vacate the premises, the premises feel rather . . . well . . . vacated.
So Snowy and the empty Smith house will patiently spend the whole day waiting for the homegrown angel to return, knowing that she will bring sparkling smiles, luminescent laughter and golden stories with her when she comes.
So thankful for our homegrown angel.