Years of arts and crafts laziness have paid off. My children now build their own mousetraps, space rockets and dioramas without even asking for help.

When they were small and the teacher assigned a creative project, they obviously required some assistance. But I figured they didn't call it elementary school for nothing. How advanced did it need to be?

For my son's animal diorama, we slapped a few feathers in the top of a shoebox soaring over hot-glued dirt simulating mountains, and I assured him it looked just like an eagle habitat. His sister, who got the craft gene, added blue sky and field mice on green grass. Off he gullibly went, secure in the knowledge that his project was special.

I picked him up later that day, after he'd seen all the other kids' projects.

"Johnny's had REAL zebra fur!" he protested. "Ashley's penguin actually waddled – and dove into a bowl of water."

Really? That seems rather ambitious for second grade.

Then came Invention Week.

"What can I invent?" he pondered at length. Wanting him to come up with his own idea, I said, "Just think of your worst problem and how you could solve it." He thought and thought. "Well, when I'm getting dressed for school, I always miss a belt loop and have to take my belt off, and start over," he said.

We should all have his problems.

One snip of the scissors later, we had invented the removable belt loop, complete with Velcro for easy reattachment. Project over. His sister colored a poster board advertising his invention.

Unfortunately, the projects were displayed at parents night, and his looked less than brilliant next to the intricate, remote-controlled devices of his peers. Some may have had patents pending.

Next was Medieval Fair. For that project, he dreamed of reproducing some horrible gothic weapon or torture device, but I saw how he was eyeing his little brother and decided that wouldn't be prudent. Instead, he agreed on a mosaic.

He agreed because he thought it meant he would get to go to a pottery store with his friends and do the project there. Again his dreams were crushed.

"Here are some old plates. Go smash them to pieces on the driveway, and I'll try to mix up some grout." His sister helped him fashion the pieces into a colorful cross.

I have been told I am the only mom who won't spend $50 on supplies at Michaels for every project. Why should I when we have a craft drawer full of perfectly good odds and ends that, with some creativity, will suffice?

I have been told that I am the only mom who won't help with a project. (Translation: Do It For Them).

Why would I? The teacher wants to see their work, not mine.

But my hands-off approach finally paid off.

I was in awe one morning when I woke to see a beautifully finished geometry project on the kitchen counter. String and wood had been miraculously transformed into a perfect tetrahedron.

I say "miraculous" because I had witnessed my son's attempts to get the knots out of the hopelessly tangled string the night before. Lesser men would have quit.

I know I did, after working on it for an hour before going to bed at midnight. "Good luck with your project," I said, fully expecting him to hurl the string across the room and go to bed, project undone.

But there it was, completed to perfection some time in the wee hours of the morning. And that can mean only one thing: The "Figure It Out By Yourself" method works.

Either that, or he woke up his sister.

Cathy Hynek of Dallas is a single mother and 21-year resident of Collin County. Her e-mail address is cathy972@tx.rr.com.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]