My sweet, vulnerable six-year old had his first sleep-over last night. A girl called Pearle, in his class since September, and her twin, Olivia, had their sixth birthday party last night. He wasn't the only boy at the party but he was the only one who slept over. Too liberal, perhaps? But they are only six, for goodness sake. Pearle had her eye on Riley from the first day of kindergarten, causing quite a rivalry with Celeste, whose radar also picked up on my son. Pearle and Celeste have, according to stories related to me, had an ongoing war about which one is going to marry my son. I'm told it has gotten quite ugly at times. And my poor little guy, caught in the crossfire, not really wanting to marry either one but not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, his own feelings be damned, apparently. He came home this morning, exhausted and very unlike himself. He also came home filthy. I'm not ashamed to admit this because he had a great time, and passed another milestone, his first night away from home. *sigh* He was so wonky I tricked him into laying down with me after lunch and after only a few minutes, the boy-who-does-not-sleep, fell asleep. Here's a shot of his dirty feet. There is going to be some ring around the bathtub tonight.
And a little thing I whipped off last night while my boy was out partying. I'm not used to being in the studio at night, so I'm not sure if it's even finished. I was, again, inspired by the distress inks.
P.S. For anyone who is less liberal than I, all the kids slept in a camper in the backyard with one of the parents, about six in all, if memory serves.
Weekly Reflection 2018 – 07
10 hours ago