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My daughter is a deconstructionist.

Nothing that appears put-together is safe from her scrutiny.

She picks things apart.

Piece by piece, she analyzes.

In a matter of moments she tore the faces off these feathered friends.

Flowers from our walk… the inevitable outcome.

One baubled bracelet is not so tantalizing when you can have plenty of pretty parts.

She’s exceptionally good at dissecting dialogue. You know how it is with deconstructionists, they have a tendency to undermine meaning.

“Don’t hit my face. I don’t like it.” So she swats at my shoulder.

“I said no more treats. Crying won’t change my answer.” So she screams.

As a parent, she certainly presents challenges… but I’m up for it.

Her unparalleled personality provides payoff!

After finding her faceless feathered friends, I found this.