Summer is here. That means four kids under my two feet. Not enough of me and a WHOLE LOT of them.
It means more time at home and more time for my budding artists to make a huge mess.
When I was a kid, every art supply had its place. I always coloured inside the lines. I grouped my crayons by colour. I hoarded erasers. I loved rulers.
How did I end up with four Jackson Pollock wanna-bes?
The pencil shavings, the shredded paper, the scattered glitter, the dried up glue, the splattered paint.
Why does it drives me so crazy?
I catch myself standing over top of the kids:
"Who is going to clean up this mess?"
"Not the glitter!"
"NO painting inside the house!"
So many "put the crayons back in the box" and the "lids back on the markers". And yet, they continue to come at me with their treasured creations. They continue with an enthusiasm that makes me want to tell myself to shut up already.
At the end of a messy day, when I'm wading through the piles and making decisions about what to keep and what to toss, I find gems like this one.
And so I sit down to write myself this note:
Don't worry that they'll never learn how to clean up after themselves. Let them make a mess and worry instead about how to show them its beauty.
