Buttons

Working in Year One I have discovered just how much crappy craft I have to do. The classroom regularly becomes a frenzy of thick PVA, scissors, card and glitter. Children transform themselves into walking, talking glitter bombs quite happily.  It clings eagerly to every available surface and most children encourage it's unruly behaviour with one little boy emptying an entire container into his hair, which despite his parents best efforts could not be removed for another week. It was on one of these crappy craft afternoons that we were busy making Halloween cards for our Year Four buddies.

   There was an assortment of delights for the children to use. There was wool, ribbon, buttons, glitter and bright synthetic feathers. The children set about fighting over the materials and heaving great clumps of glitter onto their cards. I had been encouraging the children to use 'just a pinch' of glitter in vain and when the children finished they were filled with such pride and gave toothless grins all round. We all came together back on the carpet to talk about their beloved cards and as they chatted excitedly to each other I saw out of the corner of my eye a little girl scratching feverishly at her tights.
 "What's wrong Ellie?"
"Nuffin'" she muttered guiltily. Her eyebrows raised and her eyes widened.
I turned back to the class and the little girl continued to wiggle and itch at her legs. Whilst the rest of the children were talking amongst themselves I called the child over to me.
"Ellie, is everything okay?"
"Yep." she replied quite confidently. It is then that I noticed that her tights looked heavy and lumpy as if they were full of something. Dangerously I asked, "Ellie, do you have anything in your tights that you shouldn't have?'
With a final itch she said shortly, "Yes".
With no more information given I asked another dangerous question, "What do you have in your tights?"
"Can't tell you Miss."
I smiled, 'Of course you can! What is it?"
Ellie, looked down the ground shaking her curly little head, "I stolled it. You'll be cross."
"No I won't be cross, but I will be upset if you don't make the right choice and tell me the truth."
She pouted and frowned as if torn between the devil and the truth. She puffed out her cheeks and sighed.
"Buttons" she mumbled.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said buttons!" she rolled her eyes at me exasperated.
Still not quite sure what Ellie had done with said buttons I asked her to remove whatever was making her uncomfortable. She shuffled awkwardly off into the toilets and without a word came back into the classroom, handed me her tights and a fistful of large and small buttons in different colours and patterns and returned to talk to her friend again.