This is what I was talking about in my last post:
She claims she had no paper (there are reams of paper, scrap and fresh, all around her). And she assures me the marker is washable. This kid is burning with a need to decorate stuff (skin included).
So did I yell? No, though it was tough not to. I did sigh a little and I could feel my lips purse in disapproval. I had to will them back into their normal shape. Then I took her picture.
I've listened and read so many stories about people being told by adults that colors don't match, that art is not good enough. Please let that never happen to my daughter! Let her run free until she's ready to be a grown up. And then let her run some more!
Where do we lose that? That freedom to feel like walking around with red marker skin would be fun? I think art and creativity are sometimes trapped in the same place. Is it social conditioning that knocks it out of us? Is it replaced with the cares of adulthood? That seems odd to me because so much of my adult responsibilities deal with allowing my children to be happy and unburdened.
Maybe that explains why I let motherhood overrun my personal goals, why I expend so much effort ensuring a carefree life for my kids. Because deep, deep down, I know they have to leave it behind someday, this place called childhood, where the ponies ride in the clouds, and the sandbox is bottomless....and red marker is acceptable makeup.
I hope they prove me wrong.