I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again and again and again: my girls are budding artists. Their favorite activity is coloring, cutting, gluing, painting, and anything else that could possibly be construed as art.
Most mornings and evenings they can be found sitting quietly at our kitchen table surrounded by crayons, markers, scissors, scraps of paper, and who knows what else, intently focused on their various creations.
Until recently they made do with whatever paper I could put my hand on, usually notebook paper ripped out of 50c Target notebooks. But a few weeks ago we set up my new printer in the living room, giving them unlimited access to beautiful sheets of perfect paper. Priceless in their eyes.
C knows how to get the paper herself. Little L, not so much. She still has to ask for help. Which she did tonight by whining rather loudly until M took notice of her paperless quandary and took pity on her.
“Do you need a piece of paper?” He asked her nicely as though she hadn’t been whining “Paaaaaaper” at the top of her lungs for the past five minutes. When she nodded frantically in response he went to get her a sheet from the printer.
He handed it to her and she got to work very fast, markers flying, little tongue stuck out in concentration. She kept mumbling something I couldn’t quite make out. When she asked C for the scissors I wandered over to see what she was doing.
“Oh! I like the purple! Can you tell me about your picture?”
“It’s a pizza!” She said proudly, putting down the scissors and grabbing the green marker. She started frantically dotting the page and I walked away, leaving her to her creation.
I had no idea where the idea to draw a pizza had come from her, but I was very impressed with her imagination, not to say anything of her cutting skills. And then a few minutes later it dawned on me.
She hadn’t heard M ask her if she wanted a piece of paper. She had heard him say something slightly different.
And she did exactly what he asked for; she made him a pizza paper.