"though she was born a long time ago, your mother should know."

paint in the hair, the mouth, the navel. paint to sqeeze, squish and smear. anything to clean the kitchen without interruption. they paint themselves, the table, the chairs, the paper. they use brushes and fingers and rollers and spoons. henry is proud and insists on hanging them up. jude hurls his paper to the floor in true artistic disdain and starts over. we love paint!



we love paint because it cleans up so much better than marker, particularly when applied to the skin. marker tattoos on hand and arm, tummy, are fun to show-off at sunday school and supermarket. but the paint turns the blueberry bath water into colors that swirl into gray before tornadoing down the drain.



paint is also better than crayon as it is extremely difficult to misplace bottles of paint, at least in my limited experience, but crayons roll away and are found and eaten later, found and used on walls and floors later. crayon is terrible to clean without a mr. clean magic eraser. marker, too. paint disappears with a little soap and water. paint is cold and messy. paint also costs a wee bit more than various sticks of color, except for chalk, which breaks and crumbles and melts on the tongue. so worth it for the paint, though, for such saturation and splatter.



henry starts awana tomorrow night! i held back tears when i took him to his big-kid sunday school class -- the three year olds. oh my gosh, he's in there sitting on chairs and singing and playing and seeing the bible come to life by way of the flannelgraph. his sunday school teacher is also his cubbie leader for awana, which is good for all involved. i'm nervous about awana! what if he can't handle it? how is it that he's old enough for such things? is he old enough?

i can't wait to buy the vest, i really can't.