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art attack

art attack

Back to the drawing board

Nap times used to be my favorite times of the day because much as I enjoy their company when they’re awake, the fact is that I enjoy their company a lot more when they’re asleep. It’s the only hour of peace and quiet I get every afternoon so it’s kind of like a big deal.

Recently, they seem to have outgrown their naps, which means that I not only have less time to myself, I now have to come up with ways to keep them occupied constructively.

One of those ways – develop their artistic talent. Also know as giving them a bunch of chalk and a chalkboard.

Kirsten spent like 30 seconds drawing some squiggly lines only to realize that she was more interested in posing for the camera.

I guess it’d be nice if they turn out to be child prodigy artists but I’m also ok if they end up developing other useful skills, like how to pose while holding an object, which is one of those underrated talents in life.

We’d be happy either way.

art attack, kids in motion

Bubble bubble, toil and trouble

On an average day, the one thing I spend the most time doing is figuring out ways to keep the kids occupied in a constructive manner. Because my toddlers have the attention span of a goldfish who suffered a severe head trauma. Multiple times. To various parts of the head. They spend about 3 minutes actually doing whatever it is I come up with and by the time I skip off to make my latte, there they are standing in front of me again.

“I’m bored.” “Mommy play with me.” “No, I’m not capable of feeding Elmo without adult supervision, you need to stand here and watch me while I feed him imaginary noodles. DON’T TOUCH MY ELMO you can only watch…ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION MOM???”

Yesterday, I started out with something easy – coloring. I printed out sheets of coloring pages with their favorite characters and gave them a box of crayons. And you know how long it takes for the kids to scribble lines on a piece of paper?

Exactly 2 minutes and 38 seconds, that’s how long.

It took me a longer to time to blue-tak them to the wall than it did for the kids to color them, just saying.

After we were done with our first activity, we moved on to something more interactive, like clay modeling. By interactive, I mean that I was the one made to do all the modeling while they yelled instructions at me. They obviously didn’t know that I’m possibly worse than they are at doing this. 7 minutes in, they were starting to fidget. “What are you making, mommy?” they asked impatiently.

“A mess, ok?”

If you must know, I was going for a snail, a boot and an elephant. They always make it look so easy in pictures but every single time I attempt to model clay, this is what I get.

Over the next hour, we played with trains, played with blocks, played with bigger blocks, played dress up, ate strawberries, ate yoghurt, ate gummies, played with trains again and just when I was about to cave and stick them in front of the telly, Kirsten discovered a sheet of bubble wrap.

I taught them how to squeeze the bubbles until they popped and they both thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world.

Sensing a breakthrough, I told them that they were supposed to pop every single bubble and whoever finished first would get a super special prize of…ANOTHER SHEET OF BUBBLE WRAP.

They sat for 40 minutes in silence and all I heard was the occasional *POP* *POP* *POP* of absolute bliss. They learnt fine motor skills, finger dexterity and mental focus while I learnt that sometimes, the best things in life are in fact, free.

art attack

Artistic Expression

I’ve always wanted to be artistic. To make beautiful things with a lump of clay. Or paint a masterpiece on a blank canvas. Or design pretty art pieces with fabric and scrap paper. Or at least be able to draw basic shapes and not suck at Pictionary.

I mean, just for once in my life, I’d like to really nail a round of Pictionary and not have to explain why my lion looks like a deformed monkey.

Unfortunately, it seems like the artistic part of my brain has been damaged from childhood, probably from that time I was dropped on my head as a baby. But no matter because Pictionary is stupid and who needs to draw when I can google pictures and print them out on my laser printer. In color.

In any case, I’ve been careful not to drop the kids on their heads (too often) so there’s still a good chance that their artistic genes aren’t damaged. And I’m determined to cultivate their artistic talents until proven that they don’t have any.

Which is why I went out and bought them their very first paint set, complete with brushes, paints and palettes. Speaking of palettes, I was at the art shop asking the owner for the painting plate thing and he looked at me like I was a total noob before saying “you mean palette?” Yes, ok, palette, whatever. When I was a kid, I had to put my paints on a paper plate, aight? I get to call it a plate.

Anyway, here’s their first painting attempt.

The great thing is that they really enjoyed it so I guess more painting sessions are in order.

The not so great thing is that their artistic gene seems to be more damaged than mine. Like at least I know how to isolate my colors so I get blobs of distinct colors.

They made me put up their paintings on the wall “to show daddy” but the moment they go to bed, I’m going to chuck it.