Monday, January 17, 2011
One of the things that I never really payed attention to with my first born (that I can remember, at least), and something I might not keep track of with my youngest- is coloring.
But Charlie, my middle baby, for whatever reason- I've always kind of taken note of how uninterested he seems to be with art. His older sister will pull out a coloring book and box of crayons, and submerge herself. She'll color for 5 hours straight, stopping only for apple juice and crackers if I don't stop her sooner.
But Charlie is different.
Hes just never really cared.
I'll set him up with his own coloring station, beside his older sister and hers. I'll explain to him how its done, followed by and alongside my showing him- I point to her page, I point to his. I put the crayon in his hand, I do a little scribble, but still-
The other day, the kids and I sat on the couch together and we watched The Land Before Time. If it weren't for my having to constantly get up and tend to life, the waterfall of tears from my own old lady puffy eyes probably would have done me in. Instead though, I got up and cleaned the bathroom counter, rotated the laundry, did anything I could to keep myself from sobbing as Little Foot nuzzled his face into his Mother's foot print.
And when the movie was over, the kids were back to bothering me with their boredom, and my never ending task as an entertainer continued.
So... how about that dinosaur coloring book thats tucked away in the laundry room? And... I think we have some animal finger puppet crayons?
I look over, and there he is. Laying on the ground, his pudgy little fingers stuffed inside of the wax gorilla, swirling back and forth atop the dinosaur pad that I had opened up for him.
My cheeks are burning right now, as I think about what I just wrote out. 15 years from now, Charlie will be so mortified to know that this post ever existed- the fact that I got so out-of-my-mind excited over his discovering art, but especially how I called him "my baby boy" and then published it for the world to see. Should I go ahead and frame this now? Print out copies for future crushes and girlfriends?
[Insert nod yes here.]
I danced over Charlie and Eleanore, as they sprawled out on the cold hard woods, ignoring the sting that it left on their skins as their elbows and wrists bumped into the ground with every colorful movement.
The best part is, I don't think this was a fluke. He didn't get up and run away, after one page. His cars and trucks were lined up on the window sill where he had left them, he could have easily switched gears.
He didn't toss the gorilla to the side, he simply swapped it out for the red hippo, and continued with his writings.
I wanted to stand there and marvel all day, but as sweet as the moment was- life had to go on.
As the art hour continued in the living room, I excused myself to the kitchen (behind the baby gate), where I hurried to make biscuits in time for lunch.
Bags of gluten free flours everywhere, scissors, kitchen cleaner. A general mess, as I threw everything into a bowl with hopes that I'd be eating a scrambled egg sandwich twenty minutes later.
Asleep in the papisan with her musical platypus still in her hands, and her bink (somehow) still in her mouth.
No makeup, no glasses- just a happy lady in her kitchen cookin' up some lunch, proud of her babies for doing the things that babies should be doing.
That was a great day.
One for the memory book.