My Daughter Saved Me

Yesterday I decided to run my butt off and then get the kids to Co-op. I was teaching the art class (at the last minute---thankfully I know some art) and I stupidly told the authorities that I did not need an assistant. Well good grief, I did. I did not realize that the absent teacher would leave me with very little to get the project going. We were painting. I needed water. That was the blasted thing I could not remember on my way there. I knew I would need some cleaning supplies and some paper towels (how would I have done it if I had not stopped and gotten some on the way?!) but did not think of water. Ready water.

Thankfully the Girl was there and she went back and forth from the classroom to the bathroom getting me water for the paint cups. Once she finished doing that, we all sat down and I explained the color wheel to them. It was sort of nuts because I had about ten kids from Kindergarten and First Grade and they were all over the place. I just think paint and little kids don't mix really well, but they seemed sort of cool about it. I begged and pleaded with them not to mix the paint around, to wait for instruction, etc. They did pretty well except for one of the boys who just wanted to make "black" and so he took his palate and swirled all the paint together. I saw him do it. He took his hand, jerked it around in a circular, jagged motion on the palate and looked up at me. It would have been fine except for the fact that the paint was even scarce, if you could believe it, and I almost lost all composure. I almost took a bite out of him; he looked up like it ain't no thang but I reeled it in and mechanically got more paint. Almost as soon as we sat down another kid showed up late and my daughter looked directly at me and said, "I will go get another cup of water." She knew exactly what I was thinking because it was the perfect resolve for me. I felt calm. I floated outside my own body and watched the masses of paper towels being used, the paint swirling about, the fingers turning various colors. One girl got purple paint in her hair.

Later when Dear Sir came home I sang her praises. "Did you know how awesome she was in art class today? She was my perfect assistant! She worked hard for me, I was so relieved to have her! She saved the class."

The Girl looked at both of us and said, "It was hard work but I actually rather enjoyed it."

I gave her a bath, and as we washed I insisted that we talk with British accents the remainder of the evening. Then she pretended that she was Lucy and I was Susan, and I can't remember what we talked about (most likely nonsense) but we read Narnia after she got her pajamas on.

I had paint on my hands to my wrists (I really get into it when I do color) and I got red paint on my good jeans. Why the heck I would wear my good jeans to a painting class I have no clue, but I did run a long time and forgot to eat lunch, so there you have it.