Talent

A piece of art that only a mother could love.

The picture above was taken today, my Tinker tried her clever little hand at painting at playgroup today and that was her creation. It was quite an ordeal. The paint, the children, the paint, the children. Have I mentioned the wet paint?

I'm not good with mess as you probably gathered when I confessed to arranging spices in alphabetical order in my pantry so toddler art was really a realm of playgroup that we really shouldn't have entered.

While the other mothers were saying "Oh darling use blue for the sea, blue. Oh how pretty that is just wonderful Johnny" I was also saying those things loudly, or something similarly supportive all the while in my quiet-don't-let-other-parents-hear voice I was saying "ok this white cable knit cardigan is hand wash only sweet lamb lets try not to lean onto the paper as we paint it ok?"

Then we had the ordeal of putting Tinker's wet paint hands into this big tub of murky paint water that all the other little wet paint hands had been in and then drying them on a communal towel. Since I'd made no friends at our new playgroup I managed to bite my tongue and hide my horror and even managed some small talk with another mummy while my talented artiste plunged her precious hands into the grubby paint water abyss. Oh I'm so not cut out for ikky work sans anti-bac gel let me tell you.

Anyway I was then faced with a dilemma. The painting was wet and had to dry before it entered my car let alone my house so we had about 30 minutes to kill while it dried. Being the awesome team-player type that I am, I had timed our playgroup attendance down to the minute so that we would be able to leave before the closing bell where (I'm told) all the uber chipper mummies get together with their kids and tidy up all the toys and activities. So not for me.

So there I stood. Mother of the Year wondering whether to ditch the Tinker's first ever painting because there was no way it would dry before closing bell, or whether I'd be the team player and pitch in with the massive clean up. Hell I could have even started the whole group singing The Wheels On The Bus... It was quite the conundrum. I was torn. Tinks and I distracted ourselves with some time on slide and then we read Possum Magic about 16 times. I checked on the painting and of course it was still wet. All 1 square metre of it...

I was gearing up to go, abandoning her artwork at the centre like a girl child in Yemen when Tinker piped up "painting where are you? painting?" so I gathered her up, proudly reclaimed her stellar artwork from amongst the talentless offerings of the other children and marched to my car. That's the kind of gal I am. Selfless, stoic and totally honourable.

Meanwhile I felt a slight pang of guilt about the clean up but when I got home and discovered some wet teal coloured smudges on the grape Dazzle stroller that lives neatly in my car boot I felt that all was fair in love and war. I spent a good 15 minutes cleaning the paint off my car, Tinker got her painting and I'm sure that Kumbaya type mother who had skipped over earlier to jabber a welcome to my daughter in tragic baby talk had happily done my share of the clean up anyway.

Medal? Anyone want to give me one?