Le Artiste

This morning things were unusually quiet during the mad scramble that occurs between 7:15 and 7:45 a.m. as breakfasts are gobbled, heads of hair are brushed, mouths are wiped clean, and knapsacks are stuffed. It was so quiet, in fact, that Christian and I both sort of knew something had to be up. Sure enough, as Christian rounded the corner into the living room he saw just what it was that had kept James so quiet:



He was so proud of his artwork and eager for our gushing approval, but, understandably, it just was not there. It was one of those moments where you want to crack up and also pull your hair out at the same time, but what really should happen is that you take the opportunity to convey the idea that one shouldn't just color all over anything and everything. I think that point was sort of lost on James, lost amid the clapping and cheering and self-congratulatory behavior. He is, after all 2.

The good news is that this has happened before and I have a replacement cover that Nana and Papa-T picked up for me at Ikea. And yeah, I can see that this chair cover had problems long before James went all Jackson Pollack on it, but still. I am no fool though...I am not changing this one out until after Mardi Gras.