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November 2007

I needed a nap one Sunday afternoon while my grandchildren were spending the weekend. "Is it all right if I play with the clay while you are resting?" Jenna asked.

"Sure," I replied. "It's in the second drawer of the rolling cart by the black desk," I said. "Be sure and clean your work table well first, because you know how the clay picks up everything.

"I know," she said, "especially the white, so I will use it first."

"Just don't use anything too sharp and remember you will need to put everything back when you are through, okay?"

"Right, Nana!" she said, "And clean up my mess!" She got the box from the drawer as I headed off for my nap, blissfully ignorant of what she might create but too tired and sleepy to wonder.

Later, I wandered out and was startled to see that she had made a charming buck-toothed fellow who stared at me with bug eyes. "Wow!" I said. "You've been busy!"

"Yep; he's a wererabbit, Nana!"

She arranged him on a piece of card for baking and said thoughtfully, "I think he needs something to make him stronger, though. His legs and arms want to fall off."

"Well, what would happen if you inserted some toothpicks?"

"Aha! Good idea!" she said, and then proceeded to break off pieces of toothpick, inserting one end into his arms and ears and legs ...

... and pressing the other end into his body.

Then we baked him.

Unfortunately a wee bit too long, I thought silently, although she was happy with him when she carried him home. (But I sure would hate to meet up with this fellow during a full moon!)

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