Sunday, August 11, 2013

Selective memory

I'm not sure how I fall for it so often, maybe it's down to selective memory, or more likely selective memory loss...

It always starts the same. Léon is drawing inside in his big drawing book and his drawings are bright and beautiful. The next step is to mention the possibility of painting. Then the flow chart chooses one of two paths - either the weather is crap and I veto it, or it is dry and warm and I get this urge to be supermum and I positively encourage them to drag the poster paints outside. They suit up and sit quietly with pallets and brushes for the best part of half an hour on the patio painting some blue or green stripes on A4 sheets. Because they are quiet I finally drift off towards dishes or washing, knowing I'll be back in less than five minutes. I even shout as I'm leaving not to get the patio all paint. Then one of them starts - it's just the tips of their fingers at first, then whole hands - printing wildly but of course in that five minutes one of the three wee buggers always gets the idea to paint their feet too and as they hear my return, they leg it round to the side of the house to wash it off before they are caught - leaving a trail of footprints in green and blue right round the house.

I then spend the next half hour with a broom, a bottle of Fairy and a bottle of bleach, cursing my selective memory... until the next time, of course!

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