I can look back and see my Grandma bent over her sewing machine. She was surrounded by piles of material of every kind and color. Her old Singer had been upgraded with a small motor instead of just the foot treadle, she wasn't real happy with that but my Dad had gotten the motor and attached it so she didn't complain out loud. (She had been able to go faster with the foot treadle.)
I would sit on the floor and wait for the scraps so I could make things for my dolls. I was very young when I learned how to hand sew things. Grandma was very European that way and in her opinion a 4 year old should be able to embroider because when she was 4 years old, she had been taught.
Mom wasn't able to sew a button on straight. In her opinion, if the button fell off, the shirt was too old to wear. Grandma would have hand crafted an entire shirt around one button.
Once when I was about 6, Grandma helped me make a pillow with the scraps. I thought that I was the greatest pillow maker in the world and that the pillow should be on display in a museum.
Better yet, Mom displayed it on the living room sofa.
Grandma died when I was 10 and a half. My pillow went to heaven with her. I did miss her but knowing that she was showing my pillow off in heaven made it a little easier.