The Girl likes to refer to herself as an artist. Just a few days ago, she was proclaiming that she’s an artist but that it’s a secret.
This morning, as I was planning some lessons, she came into the study from downstairs, picture in hand.
“Here Tata. I’m an artist.”
I glanced at the picture, saying the obligatory, “I know honey,” then stopped what I was doing to take a closer look.
“Did you help her with this?” I called out to K downstairs.
“No,” came the reply.
“Not even a little bit?”
I think I can be forgiven my initial skepticism.