We have a framed quotation in our kitchen, hidden amongst the past projects, unidentifiable clay models and paintbrushes.
We even made and decorated it ourselves, for good measure. I love it and almost certainly ascribe to the message. Lately, however, I have also found myself thinking that, whilst every child is an artist, some are more ‘artist’ than others.
Like the Youngest.
The Youngest has developed a penchant for drawing this summer. Just hand her a pen and a notepad and she’ll be busy for hours – and I mean hours. She’s four. This has NEVER happened to us before!
Two hour train ride to London? Notepad.
Not interested in the nail-biting three hours we spent with the Lionesses at Wembley? Notepad.
Meal taking too long to arrive? Notepad.
Three short stops on the tube?! Notepad.
What rare and beautiful new territory we find ourselves traversing these days.
Now, the thing is, with all of that drawing amidst all of the chaos we’ve experienced this summer, I stopped really paying attention to what she was actually producing. Until, that is, the tables full of mermaids and singers and footballers and princesses that I cleared up at the end of the day started to get more and more detailed; and the only way I knew for sure that they were hers was that the Middle Man doesn’t draw mermaids and the Eldest is into Manga.
“Have you seen this?!” I’d call to Husband in another room, “this can’t be hers, surely?!”
See, there’s not just the correct amount of fingers here… there’s actual facial expressions and radio mics and other tiny, tiny details and colours and thought and purpose and just acute attention to detail. I mean, she’s four?! The base requirement for primary school is that she should be able to hold a pencil…?!
And so I decide she’s gifted. I mean, I’m not going to say it, because I’m not one of those Mums; but on her first day at school I do sneak a few pictures into her bag and hope that her teacher confirms my suspicions. (All whilst humming the opening number from Matilda the Musical, “My Mummy says I’m a miracle….”) Still. All of this is far too passive for my burning maternal pride, and so this morning, I also take some photographs and send them to my only-slightly-less-biased family.
“Look… this isn’t normal is it? Surely, SURELY, the child is gifted?!”
The immediate response is…. unprecedented.
“What on earth is under that cheerleaders skirt?!”
… the… huh? What do you mean?
In all of that detail, it would appear that I failed to notice…
And I sent them to her new teacher.
Let’s hope Miss Honey’s mind is cleaner than theirs!
Still. Gotta love a family that brings you right back down to Earth, hey?!
Happy new school year, folks!
I am on the brink of a new, post-preschool era.
Let the next adventure begin….