a busy hour.

So there Mr. C is, clearly up and now out. I left you all with:  “Do I just let him paint?”

1) No nap today 2) Pretty moody boy lately even when not tired 3) I am personally wanting to paint, and him on my lap grabbing at my brush isn’t working 4) Though he’s had plenty of coloring time and even has been affirmed as an artist, he is lacking the exposure to paint 5) We are outside if things get out of hand 6) Speaking of, I have an extra set of adult hands to help out 7) And I have my 1/2 caf pulsing through my veins.

Ok. Mr. C. You are going to paint.

Curious and intrigued, he goes for the first stroke.

After trying a sample he finds the taste pretty icky. And paint isn’t easy to get of these bottles. E is at his assistance. We are all kind of holding our breathe.

Ohhh. He discovers he can use his finger. Swiggle. Swoosh. Swirl. The crowd is affirming this immensely.

Alright. Now the whole hand. Slide.

Ohhh. Both my hands. Even better. Swishy swish.

First painting finished. Intacked with signature. E’s comment: “an accomplishment.”

He is determined to paint more. As the parent who should know better, I chose to provide him with another canvas.

The paint goes from hard working strokes on the canvas, to a couple of lazy swoops on the bench, to onto his thighs.

In case I am not picking up on his cue’s, he throws in slumping shoulders and scrunchy face.

I get it. Painting time is over. For both of us, at least for today.