In Alex’s
French class, they let him paint with his hands, his elbows, his face if he
wanted to. He adores this—he loves being covered in paint. This goes against
every bone in my body—as a self-proclaimed neat freak (okay, to those who know
me, an OCD neat freak), the thought of getting paint everywhere in my home
makes me shudder. But, he loves it. And I do believe in the power of art
helping a child’s mind develop creativity and thoughtfulness.
So, I
decided before bath time, I will let him paint the way he wants to—let him
explore and have fun with it, without me standing there with a mop and sponge
ready to clean it all up.
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I love the
colors in this photo—this was all him.
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Pure joy.
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I have
mentioned before that having a child makes you remember who you were before you
became an adult; having a child also, for me, forces me to step outside of my comfort
zone. I decided to get in on the action and let him paint my face. He loved it.
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His
finished work: I look a bit like a horror picture (good thing it washed off easily).
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