Collecting passions and DIY.
The guests never lacked toys. She probably had too many of them, as usual, an only child surrounded by a host of aunts and uncles, born and sewn on” grandparents. But over plush dogs and teddy bears, over beautifully decorated dolls (sleeping and not sleeping), metal and plastic cars, the girl presented a stick found in the park, a handful of pebbles collected on the beach, a handsome cone, breathe, boxes you don't need, spools, a piece of colored plastic mattings.
She was probably four years old, when she went with her mother to the park to pick chestnuts. They walked the aisles for a long time, but they couldn't find anything. But they kept seeing children laden with chestnuts. Gosia looked sadly at her empty basket. It already seemed, that you will have to come home with nothing, when almost in the middle of a funnel, first mom, and then Gosia noticed a huge one, shining chestnut. There were a few more among the dead leaves, less beautiful indeed, but that didn't bother the hostess. The basket filled up slowly. Gosia taken over, happy, she bent over and over again, to pick up another red ball from the grass.
At home, it was impossible to tear her away from the chestnuts. She moved them from the rug to the table, from the table to the couch, and back on the rug, saying something without stopping. She was happy to show them to her father, when he came back from work. After dinner, she and her father spread the chestnuts on her little table, and they began to make all sorts of wonders out of them - men and animals. They came out pretty crappy, That's true, but they aroused sincere admiration of the child. — O, it will be Gosia! she cried – and it's you, this, a to mama.
Soon the whole chestnut family appeared on the table, and dogs next to her, horses, hedgehogs.
The next day, Gosia woke up early and started asking questions, when they go to the park to pick chestnuts. These trips were repeated almost every day and each time gave the little girl a lot of joy. All shelves with toys in Gosia's room were tightly filled with chestnut men and animals, even in the parents' room, clumsy chestnut figurines began to appear. The girl was very proud of them, although they were undoubtedly not the greatest decoration of the apartment. There was a heap of chestnuts on the floor next to the wardrobe. Visiting aunts and grandmothers looked at Gosia's chestnut frenzy with clear disapproval. One of them could not stand it and turned to her mother reproachfully: -Tell me, my dear, why do you let the apartment be so littered? Chestnuts are everywhere. I see, you made some toys, but the rest must be thrown away. Don't teach a little mess. It is shown: - Look, Honey, how ugly these chestnuts have become, how dusty they are. Come on, we will throw them in the garbage.
Gosia protested as energetically as she could, though perhaps not entirely polite. The next day, she and her mother brought a large one from the store, cardboard box. They put them in the corner behind the wardrobe and there the chestnuts, already ugly and tarnished, found their place, but for Gosia more important than many beautiful and expensive toys. They appeared in her classes in different roles. They were kindergarten kids once, once with cement at the construction site, bread in the bakery, potatoes, which she cooked for dinner. They performed excellently in each role entrusted to them. And until spring they faithfully accompanied the games of the girl.
And when they got really bad, dull, they wrinkled, when Gosia enjoyed them to her heart's content, she said herself, that they must be thrown away.
Now the empty box of chestnuts was filled with long and short ones brought from walks, thick and thin, straight and curved sticks. Gosia also collected matchboxes, with the help of her parents, she made beautiful furniture for dolls: armchairs and chairs, tables, chest of drawers, wardrobes, tapczany. When she came back from the village at the end of summer, her treasure chest was filled with colorful bird feathers, cones, colored pebbles, shells collected on the shore of a lake or on a seaside beach.
Young children like to collect and collect everything, without any choice, whatever they can get their hands on. And these seemingly useless items often turn out to be very necessary in the game. They dutifully fulfill every role, which the child will give them. And that his imagination can work wonders, so these – junk in the mind of an adult – are subject to constant metamorphosis.