This Is Why We Don't Have Nice Things

My sister really seems to have her parenting act together (she sews, she creates, she cuts her baby's hair...poor  little mulleted baby girl), so I decided to take one of her ideas and make it my own: an informal art center for Indio to bang out some remarkable creations. This amounted to me taping paper onto the wall and handing him a stack of crayons, chalk and pens. On top of the paper I taped a few index cards for portable creations I could send out to his great-grandma and far-away relatives.

He scribbled a bit; he tested the boundaries of the paper vs. the wall, all the while watching me for indications that he was in trouble; he pulled off the paper and shoved the index card in his mouth. Three times. This is why we don't have nice things.