One afternoon while I was working (publishing that zine from my dining room table, like you do), my daughter got out her fabric scraps box and got to work. She’s had her own pair of fabric scissors since she was two, and I’m quite comfortable by this point letting her use them without hovering over her the whole time. So she sat at coffee table nearby, and I sat at the dining room table, and we worked.
When she was finished, she showed me what she’d done. She’d cut out pieces to make a “Super G—,” complete with a drawn-on smiley face and a “G” on the felt body. She’d pinned the head, arms, and legs to the body piece. It just needed to be sewn, and I helped her a bit with that part, as this was her first time using thread. (She embroidered her initial not too long ago.)
She is so happy with this creation. And I adore it, not that it matters if I do or not. But what I adore about it is that it contains so much of her. It shares the style of her drawings and her paper collages. She sat down with fabric and scissors, cut out pieces, no-one hovering to tell her how Things Ought to Be when it comes to sewing. Of course the edges will fray. Of course all the knots are visible on the back. These refinements will come in time, if she continues to be interested in sewing. The most important thing right now, though, is her passion–that, and her utter delight in her finished work.