As I was wandering around the kitchen just now, picking things up, wiping things off, throwing things away; I found myself looking at the fridge. I’m constantly opening and closing the refrigerator door. But, I’m always putting in or taking out, so I never really see the door. Today though, I took the 1 minute and 11 seconds it takes to reheat my coffee, to look at my fridge. (yep, I just punch 1 repeatedly because it saves *that* much time)
The first thing I thought was, “Wow…I remember when all that covered my fridge door were naughty word magnets; the Minnesota Edition.” Lance used to spend some serious time crafting his masterpieces, and then patiently wait for me to find them, knowing I would just holler, “LANCE!” When I replaced those magnets with new toddler style ABC magnets, the game continued… We no longer have any letter OR word magnets.
These days, our fridge is layered with art. There are self-portraits, houses, triangles and everything else is simply called art. When I wasn’t able to figure out what Hannah had drawn as a baby, I learned to refer to it as art. It didn’t have to be a smiley-face, it could be whatever you wanted to draw and it would always be art. These last few days, both girls have been at the dining room table, pumping out some serious art. As with most things in the house, there is an invisible “Eliza can reach this” line that we try to observe. If she can get it, she will most likely destroy it. And I’d rather she not destroy the fridge art. Because even though I don’t take the time to admire it, I know it’s there.
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