We did an art project yesterday. I am just starting to recover. You have to understand--I am totally relaxed about these sorts of things. Messes don't bother me. I have four kids. We are a mess all the time. Messes can be cleaned up. It's fine. It'sfineIt'sfineIt'sfine.
We are studying ancient history, and our chapter this week included Joseph and the Coat of many Colors. So I, in all my brilliance, decided WE would make coats of many colors. Suffice it to say, perhaps I didn't think this all the way through. You know, like make sure we had everything we needed, how will this all play out -- that kind of way. Not that this happens to me in my regular life at all (wink, wink)--but I was in "homeschooling mom" mode. I had everything together the day before and the area prepped the day of, and still. Oh. My. Goodness.
It started off innocently enough. Look, they are all sitting in their chairs. They are wearing "smocks". There is a tablecloth on the table. What could possibly go wrong?
Look at my sweets, all working independently without a care in the world. I try not to impose a lot of "guidelines" when we are doing art. I am a color outside the lines and lions can have purple polka-dots kind of girl. Some of my kids have s they want to draw (and are completely capable of executing) and some just go with whatever floats their boat.
But you know, painting is different than coloring. Paint mixes together really easily. And turn lovely beautiful colors into a big pile of yuck. But that's ok--I have a gazillion paint brushes and sponges. Everybody has their own plate(s) to work from. There is no reason to have a huge mess.
But, no. They just couldn't control themselves. See, they've turned it into that awful brown mess. And I threw away plates and plates and plates of this stuff.
Needless to say, because of my poor planning our "Joseph Coats" look more like paint smocks. I mean just like people were wiping dirty paint brushes all over them. Which is not a big deal. Some projects are just going to bomb like that. I totally get it.
Umm, excuse me? Where did that forest green paint on her face come from? What? She has no idea. And then the neighborhood punks came to confiscate them and they bolted like they had been loosed from the gates of hel...you get what I'm saying.
So, I started the tedious process of clean-up. And there was paint everywhere. The chairs. The table. The floor. I get it, no big deal. If you are going to paint with children be forewarned. It took awhile, but fine, it was done.
Then, this morning, 24 hours later, I was loading the dishwasher. And as I bent down to add the soap, my eyes light onto a green painted hand print that with fingertip tails extending a good 8 inches along my kitchen cabinets. Oddly enough, they were exactly the height of a certain 3 year old I know. I'm just sayin'.
