I was going to devote an entire blog to the question, “Why is there always an empty toilet paper roll that needs to be changed in every bathroom I set foot in?” but have changed my mind after events of this morning with my grandson. I have a new topic that is more worthy of discussion. The toilet paper mystery will have to go on unsolved for another week.
My sweet grandbaby is home from toddler school today with a double ear infection. I’m on duty to give him extra snuggles, love on him, and help nurse him back to full health. It’s a wonderful job and I’m happy to be on call. I still remember when I was five and my dear Nanny came to take care of me for a whole week when I had the chicken pox. She played Memory with me about a million times and let me watch The Walton’s on TV. I ran around in my underwear because my nightgown made me itch and she dabbed calamine lotion on my spots, even the ones between my toes. We snuggled a lot and she read me books. I have wonderful memories of that week because all I can recall is the special time I had with my Nanny. Being with her was far more memorable than the awfulness of chicken pox.
Today, my poor buddy is a snotty mess, but because of the miraculous wonder of Motrin, he is in relatively good spirits. He’s not up to a marathon trip to the park or even going anywhere at all today, but he is happy to play calmly at home. This gave me the wonderful idea to do a Thanksgiving craft project with him. If you know me, you know I love a good kid’s craft. I love watching the creativity of children and seeing the pride on their faces when their project is complete. I’m not averse to creative messes within reason.
I had visions of making the most beautiful turkey with him today out of painted paper plates and coloring wooden Christmas ornaments. I did not expect a seventeen-month-old to create a masterpiece worthy of a world museum tour, but I did think he was capable of making something pretty darn cute. Being highly experienced with kids’ crafts, I felt I had reasonable expectations.
I have previously done coloring and Play Doh with him and he has always been very attentive and performed to almost prodigy standards (remember I’m a bragging Grandma. Admittedly, I am completely biased.) Although, I do challenge you to find anyone else who can out squeeze him or poke more perfectly when it comes to Play Doh. I was sure today’s projects would go off without incident and the results would be equivalent to baby perfection.
I set up our craft station on the dining room table. I put a plastic tablecloth over it, so as not to get paint or marker on it, put the toddler in his booster seat and was ready to start. The session began as perfectly as one could hope. I pulled out three different wooden ornaments and a package of Crayola markers. He picked the teddy bear ornament. We were off to a fantastic start. I put all the markers on the table, and he selected blue. Excellent choice. I took the lid off and gave it to him. He immediately made a mark on his clothes. No problem. I admonished myself for making a rookie mistake. We took a brief pause to strip the toddler. Once he was in his diaper and sneakers (for some reason he wanted to keep them on), he was ready to go again.
I gave him the marker again. He banged the tip as hard as he possibly could into the wooden ornament. Not phased yet, I said, “Oh no buddy, we can make dots calmly or we can color, color, color.” I showed him how to go back and forth with the marker and to dot gently. He looked at me with devilish eyes and proceeded to slam the marker down again even harder, which I did not think was possible. I grossly underestimated the strength of a small child. I repeated myself and showed him how to use the marker again. He pointed to another color. We made the switch. He promptly began drawing on his face and hands. I sighed and corrected him. He laughed and slammed it down again on the ornament.
After about ten minutes of the slam, correct, color on his face, switch marker cycle—with a lot of lid-putting on and off in between, I decided I was done with the wooden ornament craft—or more accurately I decided he was done. I was amazed his Samson-like strength did not completely destroy the tips of every marker in the pack. Props to Crayola because these markers stood up to the Toddler Slam Session.
I decided we would attempt the turkey project. The idea was for him to take a round sponge brush, dip it in paint, and dab a paper plate to make yellow, red, and orange dots. I would later make a turkey body for him and the plate would become the feathers. Cute, right?
It started out great! He was fascinated with the paint at first. I picked up the round brush and showed him how to dip it in the paint. This is where I went wrong. Another rookie mistake. I was completely off my game today. I said, “dip, dip, dip.” Unfortunately, it did not dawn on me that this is the EXACT phrase I say when I give him ketchup. He dipped with expert accuracy and then put the sponge brush full of paint directly in his mouth. Yikes! I wiped his mouth off quickly and corrected him. He dipped again and went straight for the mouth, but this time I was quicker than he was and redirected him to the plate. He actually did eventually make a beautiful array of paint smears on the plate. However, the whole time he painted, I had to perform goalie duties with the proficiency of an NHL player to keep it out of his mouth. I was pretty good and blocked it about ninety-five percent of the time, but just like hockey pucks that make their way into the net once in a while, so did the paintbrush.
It became a game to him to see how quickly he could get the brush into his mouth. When he started beating me more than I blocked, I decided it was time to wrap it up for the day. He was covered from head to sock line with marker and paint. It was clearly time for a bath!
As I stare at my grandson now hours later, I can still see the faint blue lines of marker on his face, but the turkey craft in the window was worth all the work and the mess.
He is too young to remember this day, but I will. I will remember the extra snuggles I got, I will remember reading EEK! Halloween! by Sandra Boynton a million times, and I will remember a perfectly painted turkey and a wooden bear ornament painted by an artistic genius. The messes, the runny nose, and the stubbornness of a child will all be forgotten.
It’s a wonderful day to be on Grandma duty.
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