Have I told you about how daughters in the family are trained from a young age to wrap their fathers around their little fingers, shower their love and affection upon them and then have them listen to everything they say? If you haven’t, you should probably talk to my father or my husband.
Our daughter picked on early. She snuggled up to her father one day when he was full to the brim and was lying around after a pint of ice-cream and asked him whether she can decorate the walls in her room with her own drawings. “I want to draw an ice-cream cone also!” she said. The father melted and said “Sure!”
A friend of ours heard all about the permission to paint her own walls and got her a set of Washable Markers. I tried braking the process – jammed on the brakes, but to no avail. Before I knew it, our Lady Picasso had unleashed her imagination.
I am not frightfully fond of wall creativity and was paranoid about this bit of indulgence from the husband. I tried to tell her to plan what she wanted to draw on a piece of paper first and then transfer the drawings to the wall, but the husband said I must trust her judgment and let her do whatever she wants on her room walls. So, I bit down a number of worries, and tried calming myself with antacids: you know – be the cool mom.
This is the result:
Here is the ice-cream cone:
And there is the overfed unicorn :
It was at this point in time when I idly checked the carton that the markers came in. The blasted thing pulled the rug from underneath me. Apparently, they were safe to use on clothing, but not on walls. *Duh*
But I am glad we let her do this. Her friends walk into her room and swoon, “Cool! you mean, your parents really let you do this?”
She says, “Yeah!” in that cool tone of hers, but under her cool exterior, I can detect pride. For that, it is worth it.