My Very Own Picasso

I'm sure I'm not alone when I say, "Oh, how I wish I could get more sleep. Just sleep a little longer." This morning, Hatta and I did just that. I don't know what his excuse was, but I stayed out a little too late catching up with a good friend last night. Alice's whiny delightful sounds woke me too early this morning. Ignoring her, knowing she was awake and heading, unsupervised, downstairs, I rolled onto my stomach and pulled the pillow over my head. I never could fall back asleep. I didn't rise feeling rested. "Sleeping" in was a waste.

Grudgingly, I forced myself out of bed and headed downstairs to be greeted by my lovey daughter and her productive use of her early morning freedom.

She's quite the artist. She took it upon herself to paint a masterpiece on my table using an entire bottle and then some of glitter acrylic paint. I think simultaneously she tried to play games on Hatta's iPad. Luckily he had the cover on. Did you know acrylic paint is not washable? I didn't find a paint brush. Either she used her hands or there's a purple glitter covered paintbrush hidden somewhere in my house. Note to self, check the couch cushions. If I'm being honest, and I am, I fared well this time. She didn't dump the paint on the floor, smearing it around with her hands leaving purple glitter handprints all over the kitchen. Or worse yet, she didn't decide to paint her body, head to toe. There was only minimal damage in and around the sink after she attempted to clean up after herself. I do believe we're making progress. I think, by golly, my little girl is growing up.