Who Needs Paris?

Everyone's asleep but me.  Oh, blessed quiet!

My Rachel attends art lessons taught by a woman who is the German grandmotherly type.  "I try not to chastise the children too much," she told me in her Teutonic accent the first day of class.  Oh, chastise away, m'lady; no reason that I should have to be the only one to do that. 

So I take Rachel and her friend to art class each week (leaving Brian to play with the friend's brothers); and then, for 2 hours, I do errands (library, Target, post office) with Susie in tow. 

I don't know whether I have ever touched on this subject, but Susie has the almost supernatural ability to produce continuous sound.  Her voice resonates beautifully and is quite pleasant to listen to, but still...she talks and sings NON-STOP.  2 hours, every Tuesday, she has me all to herself and she is vocalizing the entire time.  It's impressive.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, the art teacher said, "You know, a space has opened up in this class.  I think Susie's old enough to try it."

People, I didn't ask, "How much?"  I didn't say, "Gee, let me think about it" or even "Let me talk to Susie."  Before you could say "oil-based pastels," I had Susie sitting in front of a box of paints and I was heading back out to my car.

Full-body bliss --  that is the feeling that descended upon me as I sat in my unexpectedly quiet car.  It was as if every muscle - nay, every last fiber - of my being unclenched itself as I sank into that blessed silence.  2 hours later, I returned to the art studio a changed woman - restored, refreshed, transcendent.

That feeling, of course, lasted not 5 minutes once everyone was back in the car...but, you know, that's okay.   Now I can handle the bickering and the singing and the whining for food. 

Because I'll always have Tuesdays.

[Paint palette image: Ithan Elementary School]