"I can paint it myself, Namaw," a little sass touched the tips of the words that spilled from the seven year old as she defiantly placed hands on hips.

"Okay. It is what it is," the grandmother stepped back, sighed and opened the paints, set out the brushes, and hovered without instruction.

The little girl stared at the bare wood, tilted her head left, then tilted her head right, lifted the object and set it down. "She likes blue," she stated after a few minutes.

"Does she?"

"I think so, and pink."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhmm, and green."

"Okay, well get started. Christmas is next week and it will need coats and coats of paint, and then shellac to make it shine and... "

"I know, Namaw!" the girl picked up the brush near her, dipped it into an ocean blue paint, tipped the object up, and touched the brush to the front. She quickly drew the blue tip back, leaving only a blue dot.

"What's wrong?" Grandmother asked.

"I think she likes blue," the girl frowned with the thought of a possible mistake.

"Oh, she is a creative person like you. I'm sure she loves the color blue."

"You're right, Namaw."

Grandmother nodded.

The girl painted and painted until Grandmother called her for lunch, "How's it coming?" she asked over peanut butter cut out sandwiches.

The girl bit off the top of the candy cane, chewed and swallowed. "Good... I think. Will you come and look, to make sure it's right?"

"Right after lunch, but I'm sure it's just beautiful!"

After lunch, they returned to the workshop where Grandma studied the object. "Hmm ..." she walked around the table, "It appears you have finished it."

"I have, Namaw. How does it look? Will she like it?"

"I think... she will love it!"

"Me, too, Namaw!"

"Well, let's cut out the window glass while it dries some more. Then we'll seal it with some shellac and let it set until Christmas Eve. "

"No, Namaw! I don't want to mess up the paint."

"Okay, let's get the windows ready, then."

The Grandmother guided the tiny hand with her own as they cut the faux glass pieces. She chuckled at the seven year old paint job, remembering the first time she painted with her grandmother. How similar the two objects were in her eyes. She had come a long way with her art, with painting, and she had begun her journey with the same project.

Christmas Eve arrived and their guests did, too. The little girl and her younger sister were so excited about Santa, and gifts, and Christmas lights, that she forgot about the object she'd made.

They ate snacks.

They took a drive to see Christmas lights, and they returned home to open gifts.

Her aunt, uncle, and cousin had always found the neatest gifts for her and her sister. She couldn't wait to open their gifts. When Christmas was at their house, they created the funnest projects for her. The little girl remembered last year, the Christmas scavenger hunt houses her aunt and cousin made for her sister and her. That was so much fun. This year, everyone was coming to their house, and she had something very special for her...

"Oh, no! Mom!" she wailed.

"What? What is it?"

"I forgot..." she looked at her aunt, who was fortunately talking to her dad.

"Oh, okay. I'll call Namaw."

While they opened all their presents from their aunt and uncle, Namaw secretly wrapped the gift. As the two girls took pictures with their brand new digital cameras, Namaw rushed over with a gift bag.

Mom grasped the handle and passed the bag to her oldest daughter.

"This is for you, Aunt Penny," she gripped both handles of the bag, one in each hand, and thrust it toward her aunt.

"What's this?" her aunt cocked her head.

"Open it!" the three year old squealed and pulled tissue paper from the bag.

The aunt peered into the bag. She removed the object as if holding a delicate flower. She lifted the lid, closed the lid,peered into the empty window spaces, "Did you do this?"

The girl nodded proudly. "It's a picture box!" she announced, her head held high.

"And it is beautiful! I love it!" the aunt pulled the young girl into a hug, kissed her cheek, and released her back to the short time she had to play before Santa's arrival. She looked at the box, opened the lid again, pictures of both girls inside, ready to be fitted to the windows. "The best gifts are always saved for last," she whispered as a tear pressed its way into the corner of her eye.