Everyday in school, the boys bring me their work as they finish, and I correct it and give it back to them to fix.
Felicity often sits next to me in her high chair scribbling on scrap paper and when the boys come over, she hands her paper over for review.
Usually, I look at it briefly, praise her use of color and form, and hand it back. The other day, though, I took my pen and said, “Well, I think you need to fix this area,” pointing to the scribbles, “and this really needs to be shaped up here.”
I handed it back to her.
She took the paper, looked at it, and let out a heavy sigh.