The Cobbler’s Children Have No Shoes

by Sofia, Age 6

You’ve probably heard the expression “The cobbler’s children have no shoes.” Well, I couldn’t help but think of this when a certain event transpired with my daughter Sofia.

From the very first day 0f launching my blog in February 2012, I have had a steady stream of work coming in. It has been an exciting blessing! Each time a drawing is submitted to me, I download the picture and my 6 year old Sofia eagerly looks at the creations and is inspired by all of the talented artists. Seeing your softie come to life is really cool for adults, so I am sure that you can only imagine that for a child it is even moreso.  Within seconds of seeing most drawings, Sofia informs me, “Mama, I want a softie like that one.” And off she dashes, to create her very own personalized version, taking her favorite parts from each drawing she sees.” She is quite the prolific artist. And, upon completing each drawing, she confidently hands me her newest creation and says, “Here you go, Mama. I want this softie.”

Well, in case you didn’t know, my work takes me a while. Softies take me at least ten hours to create, and as much as twenty hours. Its not like a pattern, or instructions exist for creating “Carson’s Dragon” or “Lily the Fairy”. Each work is completely different and unique. It is a labor of love! I do enjoy it.

So, back to Sofia. Now, if I were to create every softie requested by Sofia, I would never have time for anything else. She loves softies! So, each time she handed me a new drawing I would tell her, “Put it in my sewing room and I will make it when I have time. I have to do my paying jobs first.” After a few months of this, my very smart daughter came up to me with a drawing and said, “Mama, I want you to make me this softie and I’m going to pay you.”

I responded emphatically, “No, Sweetie, you do not have to pay me for your softies.”

“Mama, I’m going to pay you,” she said as she turned and marched out of the room. A few moments later she returned with her hand outstretched. “Here.”

“I don’t want your money. You do not need to pay me for your softie.”

“Take it, Mama.” I reluctantly take her money. “Now I am your next paying customer and you have to make my softie next!”

And there I was, hand open, one dollar and three cents…committed to my next customer. I suppose it was quite turturous for her to see all those softies being created and shipped off to other children. There she was, the daughter of a softie-maker, tirelessly awaitng her turn. Like the cobbler’s children running around barefoot, and their very own daddy the maker-of-shoes!





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