I like projects.
Grace likes projects, too.
She likes when I give her instructions; she likes to press-press the pieces down.
Predictable. Structured. Comfortable.
Grace learns valuable skills like cutting with scissors, color schemes, shapes, and has a lot of fun doing it.
But Grace doesn't do anything creative. She follows the directions and makes a great finished product.
That's not all there is to art.
But I'm not so good at art. Crafts, yes. Art, not so much.
I intended to do a project with Grace last week. It was to become a flowery tree with pink blossoms made from fingerprints.
It doesn't look anything like a flowery tree with pink blossoms, does it?
It turned out that Grace had other plans. She wanted to make art, though she didn't say as much.
I wasn't delighted about it, but I gave Grace some plain old construction paper, and I filled the biggest well in her paint palette with 1/3 water and 2/3 Crayola washable paint.
She drew with her finger. She splashed. She smacked. She splattered. She learned.
She did art.
We laughed and laughed, Gracie and I.
I really, really wanted to say something when she painted her nose blue. I refrained.
It was fun and creative, even especially since it wasn't predictable or structured.
My painting! Grace squealed.
When she ran out of one color, she asked for another, and she kept painting. At some point, Joe showed up with some markers, and they colored and painted together.
Do they look happy or what?
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