I came across the most beautiful piece of art today.

It was a rock from the sea, covered in thick, swirled neon paint. Though abstract, the way in which the mound of paint was dropped upon the surface of the rock was clearly deliberate, and the blue, orange and pink colors blended together perfectly.

As my eyes moved around the table upon which this rock was placed, I took in the delicately painted seashells, the bedazzled mini pumpkin and the tiny handprints on a wilting, paint-soaked piece of paper.

To my right I heard the artist exclaim proudly, “I did it mama!” as she slapped another handprint on the makeshift cardboard placemat I had taped to the surface in front of her. She was amazed at what she could create, and I was too. I had a sudden memory of how much I loved the feeling of having my hands painted when I was little, so I painted the palms of her hands and soles of her feet and she laughed heartily. We all know, it seriously tickles.

Watching a toddler discover that she is an artist is one of the coolest things. My brain is going crazy coming up with all kinds of new projects for her to try. I must remind myself that it’s only just beginning, and so I put “start coming up with storage solutions for the hundreds of works of art my children are sure to create” on my to-do list.

But today, I’ll simply let the painted rocks and shells and pumpkins dry in the sun and organize all of the junk mail into a neat pile that could use a few paperweights.

 

 

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