I have been big on home improvement projects lately. (Well, let's face it. I kind of have to be with a half finished house.) So last Wednesday, Carlo and I painted chairs. Yes, I decided to do this instead of my laundry.
I was a little hesitant about utilizing a four year old's help on my bentwood chair painting project, but I figured that life is all about the journey rather than the destination, and Carlo really wanted to help me paint.
I have never seen a preschooler so excited. He pulled on his McQueen pull ups (which he uses for bed), found his very own "painting shirt" that he proclaimed he would always paint in, and headed to the garage with a brush in hand. He dipped the brush into can, made sure his knuckles were covered in mint goo, and eagerly painted away.
Carlo: Mom, I am an excellent painter. (As his knees were covered in mint and paint dripped off the chair.)
Me: You sure are.
Carlo: What do you think paint tastes like?
Me: Poop. Definitely poop. Don't eat it.
Carlo: I have my special painting shirt all ready to go and now all I need are my painting utensils! (He had already been painting for twenty minutes when this was exclaimed.)
Carlo painted by my side for half of an hour. I understand that might not sound like much, but in toddler land, that is an eternity. We finished the second coat on all four chairs. I know my bentwood chairs will have drip marks and they will not be perfect. I do have mint paint on the garage floor, and I had to wipe it off of hands, elbows, knees, and fingers. But now I will always remember the time in the garage when Carlo was in his tennis shoes, McQueen pull ups, and a painting shirt, and he helped me create the kitchen chairs, while contemplating the flavor of a satin finish.