kristy bowen | writer & book artist

When I was a kid and was first starting school, I somewhat remember the routine of my days--the early morning wake ups, sitting cross-legged and staring up at the letters of the alphabet that lined the top of the room, with playtimes and graham cracker snacks and the usual stuffs of early education.  In my kindergarten classroom, there were several play stations, one of which was a kitchen set up, complete with a tiny stove, sink, and dishes.  Being always who I am inevitably am, I loved this set up, though more I wanted to control the stories that happened within its confines, something which I often attempted but rarely succeeded in sticking to the plot. Thus, I also spent a lot of time explaining to the teacher why I was being so bossy. There were other plays things of course. Tinkertoys and giant wooden blocks, and my favorite, a huge felt board and an abundance of appliques.  Once I grew frustrated of trying to control the narratives in the tiny kitchen, I would retr...