I must admit that I have never taken my children to the Art Fair. It hasn't been so much a conscious decision, but one that seems to creep up on me every summer as I weigh their tiredness, our budget and schedule, the relative chances of heatstroke or thunderstorms. One of my children is particularly sensitive to noise and overstimulation, so we tend to skip big crowds.

Shame on me. I am the recipient of an incredibly important gift from the Art Fair of 1970; I was 12, and my mother never failed to haul at least a sizable portion of her six-member brood downtown. We didn't buy anything, usually. But this particular year, my heart leapt when I saw a collection of prints in one stall — they seemed to speak to me personally. They were brightly colored renditions of scenes from well-known fables: there was the Goose that Laid the Golden Egg, The Fox and the Grapes, The Frog Prince, and a few others whose whimsical line and expression awoke something in me. I said, "Wouldn't these be GREAT for a baby's room?"

My mother replied, "Darling, I am not having any more babies." Something about the way I lingered over them caused her to add, "But if you really love them, you should get them, and you can use them for your baby's room some day." I had a little cash, but she covered the purchase. I took them home and puzzled over them in my room, then stashed them in my closet.

And for many years, over many moves through college and my early adulthood, I packed and repacked that set of prints. Several times I nearly threw them out; they have a definite 60's feel to them. My mother died in 1983, and while I at times seriously doubted I would ever be decorating a baby's room, I held on to the prints with my memories of her.

In 1996, after a long struggle with infertility and a relatively quick tussle with the adoption process, my husband and I were awaiting the arrival of our soon-to-be daughter. We have an open adoption with her birthparents, and in the week between her birth and her entrustment to us, she stayed with them. I reserved an important job for that nervewracking week: I took the Art Fair prints to a do-it-yourself framing place. I built those frames with my clumsy hands and hung them hopefully on her purple walls. She did become my daughter, and we did become a family, and those prints stayed on her walls until she gave herself a big-girl room makeover at age 8. My mom had a vision of my future, and those pieces of art crossed time with me to get there.

For five years those prints have been stowed away again in a closet. Two nights ago I went in to kiss my teenage (13!) daughter goodnight, and guess what she had rehung on her walls? She had no idea I was thinking about writing of the fox, the frog, the tortoise and hare. They are now part of her history, and once in awhile they call to her, too.

We will be at the Art Fair next summer.

About me: I am a native Ann Arborite who spent a good half of my adult life away from here, but returned 10 years ago to raise my family. I work as Executive Director for Wild Swan Theater, so I should know how important art is to children! I will be writing about kids and theater, Waldorf education, adoption, and how Asperger's syndrome can affect family dynamics. I look forward to a good dialogue with my neighbors.