Saturday Night Lives

Another Saturday, another late night painting session. This time I’m working on a winter sky for the back side of the screen, making sure I like the design enough to live with it in the very likely event that it doesn’t sell right away at the craft fair. But this evening,I’m not working alone.


Two doors down from my office, Thing2 is busy excavating his room and, inadvertently, letting me know that he’s crossing a new threshold. The boy who was proud to have a room so messy but his mother is still working on a book about it is now at the tender age where He’s no longer content to sleep in a homemade landfill.


I remember when this phase which happened just a few short years ago with Thing1. Thirteen was just around the corner, and, suddenly, he saw his corner of the world just a little bit differently. he needed to make it his, and he finally got him to clean his room.


It’s a little bittersweet. On one hand, the room down the hall will no longer require that we get liability waivers before people enter it. On the other hand, when the room and the world changes like this, there’s no going back.

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