Three little girls came to sewing class this week. They have never come before so it was my pleasure to give them a tour of the shelves. Animal prints. Button box. Rainbow shelves. Beads. Ribbons. Perched above the windows is a selection of stuffed animals hoping to be adopted. And clothed. 

That was what they chose. The dynamics on this particular day were heavy on the twin factor. Whatever fabric the tallest girl picked, the second girl wanted too. Hence we made two purple skirts. Two peacock shirts. Two bead necklaces. Two fairy print pillows. Two pink blankets. It was adorable.

The youngest had her own plans, and bounced off in another direction. At first I wasn't sure what she was after. 

"Mary dress!" she insisted. Did she have a friend named Mary? Was it a merry dress, for Christmas? 

"To get married in!" OH. It had been the choice of violet that had thrown me off the scent. We can do a wedding dress for a rabbit. 

Sometimes when I draw cutting lines they are followed perfectly. More often the blades migrate and things go down a size. That happened for this bunny and her dress was snug enough that it reminded me of one a seamstress friend once worked on. It was so tight a zipper would not suffice. The wearer had to be sewn in. But we managed to tug it on, The bunny did not complain. 

Neither did the bear wince when she had a bow sewn to her ear. 

When the time was up their mothers arrived to fetch them. They had been prolific enough that it seemed prudent to give them bags to carry their treasure home in. 

I walked back into the sewing room which was, I admit, strewn with the remains of the morning. As I gathered up the buttons, and folded the Swiss cheese remains of cloth, I thought about how all of those ingredients had been here all along. Yet it wasn't until three girls arrived that they became wanted. Chosen. Special. A catalyst for happiness.

It suggested to me that maybe those ingredients are around each of us. All the time.