I don't like my folder

Inwe's teacher labeled a set of dark blue folders with each child's name. This folder is a place to put papers for the parents. Today, the students practiced placing the folders in their cubbies to give to their mom or dad at the end of the day.

When I walked in the room to get Inwe, she immediately picked up her folder, held it out to me, and said with a pout on her face, "I need to get another folder. I don't like this one." She didn't need to tell me that it was the color she didn't like. A mother knows these things, particularly a mother of girls.

"Inwe, all the folders are blue. They all look alike. They are a class set." Sure, it sounded lame, but it was the truth. I wasn't going to say, "We'll get you a pretty folder, honey. Don't you worry." I'm not rasing a Veruca Salt.

"It says nothing about me," was her instant reply. Remember the "Me" bag?

"And, that's okay, Inwe. It's just a folder for papers for Daddy and me. It doesn't have to be pretty." Inwe accepted this and bounced out of the room.

However, it is clear that she wasn't satisfied with my answer and conclusion of the issue. How do I know this? She constructed, colored, and filled her own folder when she got home. And, I do mean constructed. She took a large sheet of paper, and after folding it in half decorated the outsides. She then cut two rectangles for pockets, asked for tape from me, and meticuously taped the pockets so that the tops were open but the bottoms and sides were not. I watched that part. She then filled the pockets with a pad of paper and completed drawings.

She amazes me.