The artists formerly known as mom-abiding children

Over the course of the past several days, my daughters have not ceased to impress me with their discoveries of uncharted art venues. Maybe it's because our toys are not here and our bag of markers and box of crayons have a new found centrality in their entertainment. Maybe it's because they have some sort of deep, underlying knowledge that this really isn't our house, or our things, and have thus determined they warrant no respect or cleanliness. Or maybe it's because I've been reading the 5th and 6th Harry Potter books the past two weeks like it's my job...you know instead of watching, interacting with or monitoring my children. Whatever the case, the latest and greatest display occurred today. I was on the floor reading while the girls played at my feet and Olaiya says, "Look Mom! I wrote my name!" in 700 point font, on the carpet, in red-orange crayon. Momentarily forgetting that she was being a kid, not disrespectful or disobedient (never having stated, "Rule #341: There will be no writing, drawing or autographing the carpet.") the first thing I went for was not the camera, but instead a few well chosen words and the Resolve. All the child-intended colors in the Lewis household are "washable", so I think I can't see the 14 inch "y" behind the desk chair anymore. And speaking of the chair, after a using it as an indoor jungle gym, Naomi managed to find a stray gray and unleashed it on the upholstered chair and then herself. When Kurt got home the only evidence that remained was a damp chair back and a prison-like tat twisting up her forearm. So for now, the coloring utensils have temporary housing with a fridge-top view of the apartment.

Removing crime scene connection and sporting her new tat.

The girls in Mom and Dad's bathroom (see earlier post).