There was a moment today that I considered heading over to the local hardware store to pick up forty or so gallons of paint.  I didn’t really calculate how much I needed, but shooting from the hip, forty gallons seemed a good amount to pour in the tub for a creative soak.  

Then I heard my kids fighting over breakfast, each in disagreement over whose pancake stack was the fluffiest.  I’d been brushing my hair and stopped to listen.  They settled it by adding scoops of peanut butter on top of each.  I thought it was an odd way to equalize their portions but I didn’t go out to see what it really meant, or how much peanut butter it took to silence them all into chewing.

Instead I picked up the sales ad for the paint, then wondered how I’d explain the purpose of a paint bath to my children.  It only took a few minutes of thinking to realize there wasn’t much I could say that would lead them away from thinking I was nuts, so I threw the ad away and spent time painting my face.  

Thinking I’d done pretty good I approached them as they ate and they all started laughing.  When I asked what was wrong, they turned the question around and asked me what was wrong.  They tried to come up with a description of what I looked like and the consensus was that I resembled an inside out clown.  My foundation was too plaster-like, my eyeshadow too blue, my lipstick too orange and I was wearing a black and white dress.

Ignoring them I made my breakfast while laughing to myself.  If only they knew it was the non-crazy alternative.  My kids ground me in lots of ways, and most days I’m grateful.  I might even be satisfied with one night in a tub filled with white satin.

Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss….” He turned to me. “But every once in a while, you find someone who’s iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.
Wendelin Van Draanen ~