After promising my older daughter some painting time together yesterday, it seemed as though the universe was conspiring against us. The baby suddenly wanted to be fed, simply wouldn't burp afterwards, and then proceeded to spit up massive amounts of milk every time I neglected to hold him perfectly upright. Then I noticed that my two-year-old had dumped out the entire box of Pictionary cards for the umpteenth time and, with a shuffling sort of dance, was spreading them across the entire living room floor. Now the baby was tired and needed a diaper change and then to be put down for a nap. During this whole process, my four-year-old sat at the table with her watercolors and paper, calling after me "I thought we were going to paint!"
I was finally able to sit down with her and together we painted some thank you cards for all the wonderful people that brought us meals over the past two weeks. We complemented each other on our paintings and discussed when she would be old enough to have watercolors and brushes like mine. The two-year-old sat across from us intently dripping water into her paints, yet never brushing her paper with anything but water. This moment of calm with my girls reminded me what a lot I have to be thankful for.