I don't know why I did it. It must have been an unusual moment of sunny optimism. It really seemed like a good idea at the time.
It wasn't my idea to start with. My friend Linds did it first, and my friend Heidi followed suit. It seemed so creative, so free-to-be-you-and-me, so innocent. The sort of activity that results in delightful and splendidly messy kiddie pics to post on facebook.
So, this morning, I set out the gigantic paper on the floor and taped it down. I stripped my giggling fool of a child bare naked. And then I did it. I got out the fingerpaints. Oh yes I did.
Well, who's the fool now?!
In my defense, I think it bears repeating that my friends and their children successfully undertook and completed this activity. What I seemed to have forgotten in this moment of optimism, is that their children are largely civilized, and mine, though 9/10's perfectly charming, is also 1/10 barbarian.
First the paper was painted. This lasted about 10 seconds. I got some cute pictures. Then his body got painted. Whoohoo. More cute pictures.
Then my floors were painted. Not so much with the cute pictures. My walls have hand marks streaked from the crime scene (living room) clear through to the bathroom. It looks like somebody green died a horrible, unspeakable death in my house. Or like L. and I have entered a phase of very, erm, "contemporary" taste in artwork. (We have not).
There was a rotten yelling bit, followed by more defiant wall "art," followed by more yelling, some crying and a longgggg bath.
I'm not sure whether to curse my friends for having civilized children and cute facebook pictures, or myself for completely forgetting my audience.
I'll have to think about it while I'm cleaning up the crime scene.