Elka the Fairy Princess and the Giant Snowman

Very often, Auntie-And-I time with my niece is like looking at a miniature version of myself from *mumble mumble* decades ago.

Jumping wildly from one activity to the next, frequently complaining of boredom, and frighteningly creative.

My sister had taken my nephew to the nearby park in the hopes of burning off some energy before dinner, and Mum/Nana had made a dash to the shops, leaving Little Miss Seven under the dubious supervision of my Beloved and I, both experienced but happily Childfree Aunties.

The stimming toys I recieved for Christmas kept her occupied for a while, before the anticipated, "Auntie Nat, I'm bored."

Much like me at that age, my niece fancies herself a storyteller, and since I'm an Author, I always have a notebook with me. My beloved, trying to keep herself out of the danger zone, offered up the prompt "A fairy princess goes on an adventure."

And thus was born the following very short story.

Written by my niece and transcribed by me.

Elka The Fairy Princess and the Giant Snowman

One day, Elka the Fairy Princess decided to go on an adventure.

So, she set off toward the Blue Mountains with her snow gear, because mountains are very cold, and she wanted to go skiing.

But there was no snow, because it was Summer, so the fairy princess Elka summoned her magic.

("Auntie Nat and Auntie Lyndal, what does summoned mean?"

"It means to call something, to draw it close to you"

"Like, come here now.")

She shouted “Magic Snow, get here now!”

And she called down a blizzard.

“Too much snow!” she said. “I can’t see where I’m skiing!”

She tried to send some of the snow away, so that she could ski without running into trees, but instead even more snow came down. But this snow was golden because it was magic snow. It clustered together and became a giant snowman. Taller than the fairy princess Elka, even taller than the biggest eucalyptus tree in the world, and just as round.

The snowman began to chase the fairy princess Elka, because he’d been in Tasmania before she summoned him, and he didn’t like the Blue Mountains.

("What's a mountain in Tasmania?"

"There are a couple. How about Cradle Mountain?"

"OK")

They were too far north, and too high, and he wanted to go back to Cradle Mountain.

Hurriedly, the fairy princess Elka summoned back the summer sun, so the snowman melted.

But he evaporated back into the air, like snow does when it melts, and a few days later, he fell again as snow back home in Tasmania, so it was all right.

Of course, such a story requires an illustration, and typing up into something slightly more readable than my Medical Receptionist Handwriting (The Nurses can read it just fine, but they're the only ones). So we spent about ten minutes playing with fonts and drawing a picture to go with the microfiction.

But then dinner was drawing close (Miss Seven was allowed a few pretzels) and we were still waiting for everyone to get back from their various outings.

Thankfully, I had come prepared for several days of limited wi-fi and the need for things to occupy my hands. "Would you like me to teach you how to embroider?"

Miss Seven was going through a phase where she likes to do what the adults around her are doing, so the answer was an enthusiastic yes.

My in-laws had been generous with the craft store vouchers, so I had a spare embroidery hoop, and several designs already traced out. Thus armed with an obnoxiously pink piece of fabric with a celtic tree on it, Elka carefully got to work.

As with all beginners, we had a few hiccups, such as pulling the needle so far it accidentally unthreaded, and a rather unsteady line of stitches to start with. But she quickly got the hang of it, since Split Stitch is about the easiest thing you can do, and fairly forgiving

The best bit was watching her scold the thread like a naughty puppy when it failed to do what she wanted.

"No thread, you have to stay on the needle"

"Argh!"

"No, you're not allowed to tangle! Anutie Nat!"

By the time she gave up for the night and we played a few intellectual games before bed, she'd made it almost through the first row of foliage, and noticeably improved

I don't think that my sister will thank me for Miss Seven's introduction to fibrecrafts and textiles, but what are aunts for, if not to enable their niblings in non-dangerous but questionable life choices?