Yesterday, Mabel spent a happy two hours or so playing with a basin of mud at a neighbour's house. (It started as a mini sand box, I'm assured. Now it's a basin of muddy water, and the kids love it more than ever.) By the end, she was happily shoveling sand on a doll's hair for her 3-year-old accomplice to rinse off with the hose. "We're washing the baby's head," they said, clearly making poor baby pay for all those shampooings they had objected to in the past.
|Sadly, I didn't get a picture of the baby's mud treatment.|
Today, I was persuaded that the easel should come out of its winter exile in the shed and that I should let Mabel and Dash paint when Dash came home from school. It started out excellently. Mabel painted an underwater volcano.
book we've had from the library recently: "So I take some red... and I paint my head..."
The paint is going back in the basement. The easel is going back into the shed. I'm not doing summer.