the usefulness of this uselessness

Gilda pulled a face at her mother's retreating back but tucked away the broken shell shards to use for something later. Maybe they'd be good for something pottery related? She busied herself threading on the beads, finding a few smoothed bits of sea glass to catch the light with a hint of twinkle that someone else had already bored holes into.

When she felt she had enough, she grabbed one of the finished baskets and wove the thread onto the sides like a decorated handle, there that felt suitably... beach kitsch-ie, right? Pretty and useful, for someone with more gems than sense. Sitting back proudly she looked over the work her siblings had created, and her brows twitched down. Was this really a lesson, of was her mother really exploiting child labour?

"speech"