Recently, I have started a new painting... in oil. This plight is extremely more daring and dangerous nowadays because I have two young boys who want to be with mommy... always. Oil paint and children is worse than a bull in a China shop. Way worse... in fact, I once saw a show, "Mythbusters" and they actually put a bull in a China shop. The bull avoided the shelves and was actually quite agile in manuvering his mass around the delicate porclein. Not so with a young child and paint. Oil paint is magic: even when I paint, it magically gets all over the place regardless of the care I place in keeping it restrained.
Enter small child #1: Heads right for the wet oil on the palatte. Mom miraculously swoops down, percariously balancing paint brush and paint tubes, to intercept budding artist.
Enter small child #2: Heads for the paint brushes soaking in the turpintine.
Mom swivels and grabs up the small child, holding a paintbrush in her mouth and the palette of wet oils just out of Small Child #2's reach.
Barking orders to Small Child #1 through teeth clenched down on her paintbrush, #1 just stares... unable to understand what all the fuss is about. "Get out, please... mommy's working."
"I work too." Grabbing a clean paintbrush, #1 begins to "paint" the wall.
Small Child #2 is now fighting his way out of his mommy's arms to get a paintbrush for himself. Putting #2 down, mommy picks out a nice clean one and hands it to him. He too "paints" the wall.
Admiring her adorable artists, mommy soon realizes she has gotten paint all over herself. Her shirt is ruined. Oil does not wash out.
Oh well. At least her kids are spotless.
And that painting... well that painting will get done the day I put a dead bolt on the door.
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