Body art

The afternoon was going really well, until I yielded my decision-making authority and asked the wrong question.

"What do you guys want to do?" I asked my energetic children.

"Paint!" exclaimed Abby. "Paint! Paint!"

"Bah-ya!" shouted Caleb, chiming in his word for backyard with equal enthusiasm, gesturing toward the windows. "Bah-ya! Bah-ya!"

Hmmmm. Now what to do, I wondered. I had anticipated Abby having an opinion on the afternoon's activities, and since she typically suggests things that are well within reason, I was prepared to follow through with whatever she came up with. What I didn't anticipate was Caleb disagreeing so readily and having a suggestion of his own. I took a mommy moment to decide on my next move.

Problem solved, I thought. We'll paint in the backyard. That should make everyone happy.

I announced my plans, changed my happy children into crafting clothes and painting aprons, and headed for the craft closet. Armed with a box of paints and a giant piece of posterboard, we marched into the backyard.

The kids totally got into the whole outdoor painting thing, and were both pretty creative with their use of pine branches (Caleb) and dandelions (Abby) as paintbrushes.

But then Abby decided it would be fun to paint her toenails. And her feet. And her arms.


And it looked like so much fun, that Caleb (who had long since lost his apron), decided to do the same.


And when they were done, Abby wanted to sign her name to her artwork, which by this time included her brother. She managed to scribble an "A" onto his back and was beginning work on a lower case "b" but he ran away before she could finish her signature.

And there you have it. Yet another example of how life is more fun when you're making a mess.