Dialogue

Vocabulary

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Lesson Transcript

Painting
"I need my smock, mommy," my daughter says as she holds her arms up over her head.
"Oops, I forgot," I say, and I slip a t-shirt borrowed from her father's drawer over her head. It is nearly covered with paint.
"You forgot?" she says, looking up at me.
"Yep. I forgot." I open the lid to her finger paint. "You ready?" I ask.
"Yes," she says clearly in her two-year-old voice, "I'm ready."
I squeeze a little paint on the extra large sheet of paper we have taped to her painting table. She ends up with small pools of red, green, blue, and yellow in front of her, and she lines herself up in front of them, her fingers outstretched.
"Go ahead," I say, and she plunges in, swirling the paint around and mixing it together until it is nearly all a dark shade of blue-green.
I watch her make patterns in the paint as I load my brush with yellow ochre and consider the brushstroke I am about to make. I am painting my crazy dog, Annie, whose head will never quite sit straight after a car accident months before she came to live with me over eight years ago now.
"That's Annie, Mommy," my daughter says, pointing with a small finger covered in paint.
"That's right," I say, considering the painting. We are both unconsciously cocking our heads, mimicking Annie's position.
The studio is our place, my daughter's and mine. I can only hope that she will remember this moment, or moments like it, with as much fondness as I will.
What do you do in your "down time"?

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Painting
"I need my smock, mommy," my daughter says as she holds her arms up over her head.

"Oops, I forgot," I say, and I slip a t-shirt borrowed from her father's drawer over her head. It is nearly covered with paint.

"You forgot?" she says, looking up at me.
"Yep. I forgot." I open the lid to her finger paint. "You ready?" I ask.

"Yes," she says clearly in her two-year-old voice, "I'm ready."

I squeeze a little paint on the extra large sheet of paper we have taped to her painting table. She ends up with small pools of red, green, blue, and yellow in front of her, and she lines herself up in front of them, her fingers outstretched.
"Go ahead," I say, and she plunges in, swirling the paint around and mixing it together until it is nearly all a dark shade of blue-green.

I watch her make patterns in the paint as I load my brush with yellow ochre and consider the brushstroke I am about to make. I am painting my crazy dog, Annie, whose head will never quite sit straight after a car accident months before she came to live with me over eight years ago now.

"That's Annie, Mommy," my daughter says, pointing with a small finger covered in paint.

"That's right," I say, considering the painting. We are both unconsciously cocking our heads, mimicking Annie's position.

The studio is our place, my daughter's and mine. I can only hope that she will remember this moment, or moments like it, with as much fondness as I will.

What do you do in your "down time"?