In the 105-degree summer heat, I haven't exactly been eager to take my two young girls on park outings or walks through the local botanic gardens. We engage in these activities regularly as I try to foster in my children an appreciation for nature. I'm no activist, and I often think the weight of heavy political issues are thrust on our children to excess, but it's never too early to teach some basic values. It's simple, really. Be kind. And that means to our planet, too. With no task too small, we've picked up litter at the playground and parking lot. My three-year-old is all too familiar with the cycling can, where she is convinced old milk cartons are magically transported off to be transformed into princess boxes with toys in them.

Still, sweltering enough indoors, I rummage about the house trying to scrounge up some kind of activity to keep her amused.

Do you want to make a craft? I ask, eying a few pieces of trash sitting on top of the overflowing can that I've been embarrassingly too lazy (er, busy) to take out.

My daughter nods enthusiastically.

An old plastic milk jug, a couple of toilet paper tubes, some scraps of cardboard, a pipe cleaner, and a a few coats of paint later, and we have a rather fashionable-looking piggy bank if I do say so myself.

Let's put coins in it! My tot squeals as she scrambles to find some pennies.

Cute though it is, it's rapidly occurring to me that this flimsy creation is likely to collapse if it ever fills with coins. Anyways, she already has a piggy bank. A beautiful ceramic one a family friend purchased for her at Nordstrom's, custom painted with her name on it.

But I like this one, my pre-schooler whines when I try to reason with her.

Seeing through her eyes, this milk jug piggy bank really is trash-to-treasure. To her, there is nothing inherently more valuable about ceramic-and-purchased than there is about homemade-from-trash. On the contrary, the milk-jug is bigger and she brushed on the paint herself. That makes it better.

And as we've done such crafts, I've noticed it's had an impact on my daughter. Like many children, the cardboard box makes an infinitely superior playhouse to anything store-bought, and the trash-crafting has reinforced her natural inclination to creativity and resourcefulness. She's never heard of pollution of global warming or of endangered spotted owls, but she does know to stop me from discarding a used plastic cup when it would make for a perfectly good sand toy.

And really, when you get right down to it, if we all thought a little less of sophisticated environmentalist literature and a little more of milk-jug piggy banks, it would serve the earth well.