It started off sweetly, as a simple afternoon craft. Crayons, markers, puff balls and glue were provided all to Bella’s delight.
The puff balls were to be smashed in the glue and then repeatedly banged together in her hands.
But quickly, the glue ran out. This caused frantic calls and signing for, “Moe! Pee!” (More, please) The glue began to become a great source of irritation to me. I couldn’t do anything else besides pour it, because those puff balls ate the glue so quickly.
Finally I squeezed a large amount onto the paper. Pleased with my smartness, I headed to prep dinner. A few minutes went by with total silence.
And then. I finally took a good look at her.
Bella had taken all the glue, and running out of dry space on the heavily saturated puffs, she began to smear it on herself. Hair. Cheeks. Ears. Neck. Shirt. Arms.
There was glue everywhere. And then she went to eat it.
“Bella!” I gasped, and whisked the mess away. I began to clean her as she struggled and fussed. And then, seeing me take the tray away to the sink and still all sticky with glue, she realized the inevitable:
ART WAS OVER.
And that, my friends, was unacceptable.