We were doing the obligatory ‘dwaaw-wing’ yesterday because you know when you have small children they like to dwaaw. Correction, the girl child wants to draw. The boy child scribbles about as well as his one year old sister and he’s almost four. Don’t get me wrong I have no problem with his lack of drawing prowess. It doesn’t bother me that his BEST FRIEND (yes that was me shouting because that’s how we say it around here) comes out of class with a perfectly written name above a perfectly drawn house and my child hands me half a toilet roll (not even a whole toilet roll people) with a milk bottle top stuck sloppily to the side proud as can be.
So there we are dwaawing and I decided it might be okay to do two things at once. CLUTCH YOUR PEARLS people. I heard it you heard it we all heard it, it was crazy thinking but it was also late afternoon and the whole AT HOME ALL DAY with SMALL CHILDREN thing had blurred the lines.
I decided to wrap the presents we had bought for prizes for the boy child’s fourth birthday. I was halfway through the first one and they were already smelling blood. “Can we dwaaw on it?”
Sure, scribble away, who’s it going to harm? *She thought naively as the last bit of parenting wit left through the same gap that the idea of a drink after bedtime had arrived*
I was weak and vulnerable.
They started to draw, scribbles of course, as I continued to wrap.
After the third prize had been wrapped I looked up and noticed the big one had drawn a picture of what could only be described as a courgette man. Eyes, mouth, legs, arms. CRUD. His first discernible drawing EVER and it was on the wrapping paper of a gift for someone else. WHY BOY CHILD WHY!!!??? Before I could react he’d grabbed another prize and was drawing more vegetable people.
He was beyond excited at his accomplishment. I was beyond proud. I’d taken pictures, texted The Husband and put it on Facebook. Because it was official he was a vegetable people drawing genius!!
But as I write this my kids art wall is still filled with lines and scribbles and someone at his birthday party will go home with his very first artwork. I hope they frame it.
I hear you, just rip it off and wrap again. Oh if only it was so easy. He’s three and he’s drawn a masterpiece on a prize for the big P-A-R-T-Y and he knows it. He’s a black and white blue print of all that goes on in this house and all that is said and done and promised and supposed to happen and the no’s and the yes’s and do not, under any circumstances, change what he perceives to be the case. It’s toddler-ville here people and I’ll forgo the first artwork to keep the peace.
Let’s go back to the scene, I’d made my peace and we were packing up the felt tips and wrapping paper and tape and- WHERE IS THE BLUE FELT TIP PEN??!! Oh the fear! The heart pumping pulse racing fear.
You see the girl child has started dwaawing. On everything. Paper? What is paper when this chair, those books, these walls will do. She’s laughs in the face of paper.
BUT YOU JUST HAD IT!!!! We don’t know mommy. BUT LOOK YOU USED IT FOR CARROT MAN’S LEGS! It’s gone. STATE THE OBVIOUS!
We didn’t find the blue felt tip pen. The one I saw them using a nano second before it vanished.
It’s been twenty six hours and I’m still on red alert. She’s smiling and using that lopsided grin every time I look her way and I just know she’s stashed the blue felt tip pen. She’s just waiting to attack the moment my guard is down. The Husband thinks I’m paranoid and sleep deprived but I know better. She’s pretending to be adorable and innocent and oh so darn cute but she’s circling and I’m just about treading water here people.
Keep me in your prayers.