Refer to the post before last about the boys getting into paint. It was really awful. I can still see them, slick, rounded, and shiny white from head to foot. I can still see a sea of white paint. It didn't seem real. It couldn't happen. They couldn't open those cans. They couldn't have done that. They did.
Since then, several times they have been drawn to paint. I dabble in lots of arts and crafts. I keep things put away, where they "couldn't" get to them. But they always have. Now their almost 8 and they can control their urges enough to ask me first. They have never made much mess since then, but have ruined a bit of flooring and quite a few clothes.
Anyway, today the drive to paint struck again. The oldest (by 12 minutes) said "Mom, come see my painting". With trepidation and already saying "Don't paint without asking!", I followed him to the sun/art/junk room. Here's what I found. My heart soared. My child is painting. Really painting. I can't say how happy that makes me. So, I helped him get some other colors, water, and a palatte.