“I’m all done” he says, halfway out of the chair already. It’s finally spring here. We’re spending as much time outside as we can this weekend.
The weather is gorgeous. Just as it starts to feel too warm a breeze blows the heat away. In the distance is the sound of a neighborhood buzzing with outdoor activity. The scraping of rakes, the droning whir of a leaf blower, laughter and screams from children, dogs barking at the squirrels chasing each other.
“That’s beautiful, Theo!” Cece is usually great at giving encouraging words. We’re sitting out of the direct sunlight under the canopy of our back porch painting. The familiar scent of acrylic paints overpowers the smell of wood coming from the cheap, mass produced craft birdhouses.
Celia is a bit more deliberate and patient with her craft. She continues to paint. “Thank you, Cece. Mine is so messy!” At least he’s aware of his lack of willingness to create art.
