My Little Artist

Notice on her All About Me poster, her outfit matches the one she is wearing.

Josie is an artist.

I realize that doesn't necessarily mean she will grow up to be an artist by trade.  In fact, she has told me emphatically, "When I grow up, I want to be a scientist, and I'm not changing my mind!"

Whether it's bugs or berries, Josie likes to study it.  The picture on the left shows her watching her ant named Elevator.

I think the exclamation mark that definitely accompanied that statement was used in response to how many times people have told her she could be an artist someday.

I don't know, or care, if she will grow up and make a career out of her talent.  (Maybe she'll be a stay at home mom who illustrates books...maybe one of those books will be written by me...)  I'm not the sort of mom that imagines my child's whole life out before they start kindergarten.  (...Won't we have fun when Disney makes the book into a movie, and we get to spend time together in California?...)  Those types of parents shouldn't let their imaginations run wild.  They need to let their kids live their own lives.  (...I'll watch the twins, Tracy and Stacy, while she helps the Disney artists capture the feel of the characters.)  Seriously though, I hope she knows that I don't care what she does as long as she's happy.

Art makes her happy.  I think even if she becomes a scientist, she won't desert her art completely.  Once when she was four she came to me practically in tears.  When I asked her what was wrong she cried, "I haven't painted anything today!"

This was one of those small moments when you learn a lot about your child.  I saw in her eyes that not only does she love to paint, she feels she needs to paint.

October 2009

September 2010

It's not only painting.  She also loves to draw, color, sculpt and, simply, create.

April 2009

July 2011--I was cleaning out the garage when I noticed Josie had brought her drawing outside.  She was drawing the tree across the street.

September 2011

The way she puts colors together has fascinated me for years.  One calm afternoon while the boys were at school, we lay on the floor coloring side by side.  I was planning a beautiful monochromatic My Little Pony in which I would use all the different purples in our 64-count crayon box.  I was combining darks and lights and telling her the names of all the purples because, of course, she can see that they are all different and must know what they are called.  I was enjoying the unusual quiet when Josie leaned over and said, "Mom, aren't you going to put more color in your picture?  Here try some yellow with that."  She was right.  One strand of pony hair colored yellow made all the purples pop.

 

We recently invited family members over for her first Art Show.  We covered the walls of our home with some of her masterpieces and Josie got to discuss her art.  We ate BBQ and talked about the pictures of family, flowers, and animals covering the walls.  She gave a small art talk/tour which ended at the wall by the bathroom.

Her most popular works were her abstracts.  Like I said, that girl knows how to put colors together.

My favorite story happened last year when she returned to preschool after recovering from her broken leg.  It seems, in her absence, the boys and girls had paired off into preschool versions of girlfriends and boyfriends.  (To protect the innocent I have refrained from using full names.)  She came home from school one day and said, "D--- and J--- are together.  A---- and DJ---- are together.  They want me to go with B---, but, Mom, I just can't be with someone who scribbles!"

I'm glad my girl has standards.

I'm glad that she has found something she loves so much.

I'm glad that even though she doesn't look like this anymore...

January 2008

 She is still my little artist.

A New Take on Fuzz Therapy

First, let me introduce you to Calvin's idea of fuzz therapy--

We definitely like his kind of fuzz therapy, but we are putting a whole new twist on the term. You see, a week ago we found out Isaac is afraid of cats.  No, afraid isn't the right word.  TERRIFIED (yes, in capital letters) is more like it.

It was not a pleasant experience for anyone. We went to a friend's house Saturday night for dinner and games, that part was fun, but whenever their very calm, sweet cat appeared, Isaac went nuts.  Crying, clinging to Mat, refusing to use the bathroom because he had seen the cat walk by there 20 minutes before.  Craziness!  It made me want to cry to see him feeling that way, and because of a cat no less.

Mid-way through the evening, I boldly declared to Mat, "We need to get a cat."

It took boldness because Mat has never hidden the fact that he is not fond of cats.  Fast forward three days.  It is Tuesday and Mat comes home from the gym.  I introduce him to the cat that he had given his consent for just 24 hours before.  He groans and says, "That is not a cat.  It's a kitten."

"It was free," I say smiling, and cuddling the cutest kitten I have ever seen.

Introducing the kitten to Isaac didn't go as smoothly.  I picked him up from school and asked him if he wanted to see what I had in the soft bag that was hanging from my arm.  He excitedly drew nearer to take a peek, and at the sight of the fuzzy kitten's face staring up at him took a flying leap back to the wall of the school.  I wasn't sure I could talk him into getting in the car with me and was cursing myself for showing it to him.  He did get in the car eventually, and we officially started down our own road of Fuzz Therapy.

I was not able to talk Isaac into getting close to the new kitten, but Evan and Josie were more successful.  Notice in the picture how Evan is gripping Isaac's shoulder to keep him from running away.

Poor Kimball is already at school and didn't get into our new kitten picture.

I tried to let Isaac name the kitten, so he would feel involved, but Evan refused to call the kitten, Monkey Girl.  I suggested Patches or Kit Kat which led to most of us calling her Kit Kat and Isaac telling everyone at school that he had a new cat named Patches.  She has finally been dubbed Kit Kat by all.

Kit Kat--Eight weeks old

We are slowly making progress.  Some days we have real breakthroughs.

Isaac playing with Kit Kat and her favorite toy.

Other days we have set backs.  Like last night when I woke up at 2am to find Isaac asleep sitting up on the couch because Kit Kat had come into his bed and tried to cuddle.  Today, he was much less fond of her.  But we try to focus on the successes.

It turns out Isaac wasn't the only one that had to get used to being around another creature.  I thought Wilma was going to have a nervous breakdown.  Thank heavens Kit Kat could take care of herself.

You'd think Wilma would learn after the first few swipes that cats scratch when sniffed.

They are friends now...sort of.

We sure get a kick out of watching them together.  The funniest thing is that Wilma has practically no sense of smell so she isn't a very good kitten locator, though she would like to be.  One day, just to mess with her I put a small shoe box over Kit Kat.

Wilma was very nearby when I did it.  The box was gliding along the floor on white paws.  I couldn't believe how long it took Wilma to find her.

Ah, what an adventure we have had thus far!

Wish us luck as we continue with Fuzz Therapy.

I was excited to see this.

Maybe someday we'll see Isaac like this.  That is what I call Fuzz Therapy!