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Experiment

When I was a kid, I wanted to be an inventor. Who doesn’t, I guess. I mixed this and that, sometimes with permission, sometimes surreptitiously. At one point, I even determined that I could certainly make my own alcohol, so set some potato peelings to ferment, and not knowing really about the distillation process, created what could only be called later a foul mess.

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Today, L was less ambitious. She wanted, appropriately enough for her interests and gifts, to create paint. She mixed various food colorings together, taking careful notes about proportions.

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In the end, they all wound up in the sink, I believe. She couldn’t figure out a way to thicken the mixture into a paint that didn’t involve some idea like mixing yogurt into it. We’re more than happy to let her play, let her experiment, let her explore, but everything has a certain limit.

Story Four

Fairy Tale 4

Once upon a time there was a princess that had a castle. The castle had a queen. She was beautiful.

Story Three

Fairy Tale 3

Once upon a time there was a queen and a king and a princess. She had five cats and one dog.

The Artist, Redux

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.

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Casual Sunday

A new class with a new teacher and a new building — recipe for stress for a 2.6 year old. All that in mind, we decided a lazy day at home was in order. Morning was for painting.

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L is very interested in abstract design, and she has a strong sense of color, particularly blue. A successful painting has a significant amount of blue. And pink.

All great artists teach as well, directly or indirectly. L is no exception, offering advice to neighboring painters.

“But, but, you use blue paint, Mama, and I use blue paint. Okay?”

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And a productive painting session requires the artist remain focused on her work, heedless of where else her paint might be landing.

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Egg Party

For a few years now, we’ve been having people over one evening as Easter appears to have an Easter egg painting party. We were squeezed for time this year; we weren’t sure whether or not we’d get everything together.

Then friends saved the day by beating us to the punch. The only thing we had to do: bring eggs.

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As might be expected, L greatly enjoyed preparing the egg dye. It was, in fact, the first time we used store-bought dye. K usually boils the eggs with onions skins, turning the eggs a rich reddish-brown.

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This was the first year L was old enough to paint, and she took to it like a natural. She was unfazed when her egg tumbled from the high kitchen counter where everyone was working. Once she had it back in her hands, she continued as if nothing happened.

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It was the first year I didn’t paint an egg, though. Not the first time in my life, for I grew up not celebrating Easter.

When I got back home, I saw a message on a social networking site from a friend who was “spring cleaning/deleavening today!” Someone else who doesn’t celebrate Easter but instead, the Jewish Old Testament festivals.

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Deleavening — cleaning the house to get literally every single crumb from the house, for leaven is a symbol of sin — seems much less enjoyable than what we were doing. I haven’t been involved in deleavening in many, many years now, and I must say: Easter egg painting is a much more rewarding spring tradition.

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And you can’t exactly invite your friends over for an afternoon of deleavening.

Well, you could, but first you’d have to explain what it is. It can be, in its own way, a very spiritual activity:

I always pray for deleavening/unleavening because there are no voids in the universe. There is no “empty.” If something is taken away, it is replaced with something else (e.g., when water is removed from a glass, it is replaced with air).

Deleavening requires God’s help. Just as my house can’t deleaven itself (I have to do it), I can’t deleaven myself (God has to do it). I, though, choose to cooperate or resist and I am responsible for the choices I make. As I’m deleavened, those empty places need to be filled with unleavenedness, and God also has to do to do that (just as I make or buy unleavened bread and bring it into my house each year – I do wish sometimes it would materialize all by itself since my personality doesn’t lend itself to enjoying the precise formulation of baking). Again, I choose to cooperate or resist the unleavening part of the process. (All the Strange Hours)

One cannot wax theological about Easter egg painting.

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Well, an egg is a symbol of life, but beyond that?

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Really, it’s not important. There doesn’t have to be theological meaning behind everything in life. Sometimes, it’s just about the painting.