Valentine Fancy Day

Today I simultaneously celebrated a traditional celebration and special event: Valentine’s Day and Fancy Day.  Valentine’s Day is special in itself, a day to express love and be loved with red hearts and flowers and words that sometimes forget to be said otherwise. But today my granddaughter and I also took off on a Fancy Day field trip to The City, eager to see the big wide world through 5-year-old eyes.  Our goal was to spend time together, but also to celebrate her family through the process of making special handmade Valentine cards.

First we ran an errand for her mother and purchased a few practical things, and one not-so-practical-but-cute night lite, at the “baby store” (Babies ‘R Us) for her one-month-old sister.  She oohed and aahed throughout the store, gasping with delight at every turn, coveting this tiny hat and the other ruffly dress and oh, those sparkly silver shoes!

After checking out, we drove down the street and scoured the “craft store” (Hobby Lobby), canvassing the aisles in pursuit of materials to make Valentine cards for each member of her family.  We investigated a few other interesting things while there, including pastels (could she draw with some, please?), sparkly beads (could she string some, please), and feathery masks and headbands (could she wear some – yes!).

Finally we drove to the “snack store” (Panera Bread) where we spent the next two hours.  She selected a carrot cupcake from the case and a carton of milk for a snack, and I ordered hot herbal tea.  We found a private corner booth, separated from the bulk of the store’s patronage, where we might get crafty without bothering others.  I explained how this was a public place, not our place, and how we needed to treat it with respect and keep our mess contained and cleaned up as we worked.  It was a teachable moment, and she rose to meet my expectations without complaint, but rather understanding and due regard.

Soon after we settled in, she devoured the buttercreme frosting from the top of her cupcake - but the fun had only begun.  There was a bonus: crème cheese filling!  WOW!  She scooped it out daintily with the end of a knife, quarter-teaspoonfuls at a time: uninhibited refinery.

With the mangled cupcake pushed to one side, she laid out papers, stickers, scissors, and sparkly plastic gems.  Then she patiently fashioned six Valentines, styling each one from our newly-selected papers (she’d purchased a different color for each person: her mother, father, two brothers, and two sisters). The project required unique customization, and she rose to the challenge eagerly, with an artist’s flair for design and color.  Each card sent an unspoken, unwritten message by virtue of her artwork.

A pleasant-looking woman about my age sat nearby eating soup and salad.  She congenially struck up a conversation as if she already belonged to our get-together, and I encouraged her kind involvement.  We learned she was a preschool teacher who simply couldn’t retire because, “The kids are so precious, and they need guidance more now than ever.” She saw right through my little granddaughter who loves elegance, and gave her a knowing wink.  “I can tell you’re a sparkly girl,” she said with surprising accuracy.  She offered to take a picture of us for posterity: the old and the young, both young-at-hearts, making hearts together.