After a gunning start to the new year, this week I succumbed to my first cold of 2014 – hence the radio silence – all of the Christmas partying and New Years Eve drinking finally caught up with me, and I had been left rendered useless. All my energy had been channeled into entertaining a very bouncy three year old who seemed quite unsympathetic to my plight. But after a few days of rest, numerous tonics, fresh fruit and salad it looks like my body may have forgiven me and the groggy head is lifting.
Yesterday was particularly wet with grey skies and F was starting to loose his patience being cooped up with a croaky and grumpy me. I racked my brains for something to do which was low impact and quiet, so when he suggested painting I wasn't convinced. Why? This normally ends in paint splashed on the curtains, me turning into some weird monster control freak as to how he should use the paints – don't mix the all colours! – and him going into a sulk. Not wanting a tantrum, I set everything out on the table and sat beside him with some hot lemon water, wishing myself well.
Where I would normally jump in, I didn't. F happily mixed the colours away, there was minor collateral damage to the curtains, but I didn't care. To be honest I didn't have the energy to get too involved so I happily sat, thankful for the 45 minutes of peace as he painted page after page, all with a running commentary of what he was doing.
"Mummy it's a fish, with a postbox because it has underwater letters.
Look that's a rose bush with fireworks behind it, they're pretty things for you..."
I was quite surprised how long this held his attention, it didn't matter that he wasn't always painting recognisable things, his descriptions were beautiful. I suddenly felt awkward and a bit guilty that I had been stifling his creative side by getting over involved and dare I say it... critical. Who cares if he mixes all the colours and it makes a stodgy brown? He certainly doesn't. After the paintings dried he talked me through them again and picked out his favourite. We used his blackboard wall to create a gallery in his room, drawing frames to stick his paintings in. You could see the pride beaming out of him as I bit back some of the mama guilt. Oh they're beautiful I exclaimed. As soon as Paul arrived home he was rushed straight through to his bedroom by a excitable F "Come see my exhibition Daddy".
So that'll be me adding another 'Do' to 2014. Do not interfere when F is happily involved in child lead play. Lesson received and learnt.