Idle hands

Toddlers are amazing in their creativity. Couple of days ago, I was closing the door to Toby's room for "quiet" time and he was working some last minute negotiations. Finally, he blurts out, "Wait, wait!!" It sounded pretty urgent, so I stopped. "Do you have any fried chicken?" he says. I'm not gonna lie to you. I laughed in his little face. Then, I said I didn't have any and went away. Then I thought about fried chicken for a while.

And they're creative with their art. I have a collection of heavily painted pages hanging up in my kitchen. They are bright and eccentric and definitely abstract. I oughta frame them and start an Ebay business.

Where they are the most creative, though, is mischief. Give a kid a marker and a piece of paper, and you'll get some large random swirls, maybe a smiley face. 15 minutes, tops. Give an unattended kid a marker and they will spend untold amounts of time covering whole walls with art. They will amaze you with how high they can draw on a wall, how completely they can cover a hardwood floor, how effortlessly they can paint themselves to look like somebody hanging out on 6th Street in Austin.

Or say, leave some random foodstuff out. They will find a chair, dragging it across the house into the kitchen, climb on top of the counter, retrieve the chosen food and then drop it to the ground, where they will settle in with curious siblings and ants and eat their fill before some alarmed adult happens upon them and ruins the fun.

I have developed a little bit of a sixth sense about detecting potential pitfalls. I see knives left on a cutting board. I think, not of blood and guts, but more likely, shredded drum heads and carved couches. I see a permanent marker, in a SAFE INSIDE A LOCKED ROOM and I see the end of the age, the apocalypse, the desecration of the temple, you name it. There are few evils larger than a Sharpie in the wrong hands.

Some day, my bad, brilliant little children will be doing genius things for Jesus. Until then, I will not sleep. Mmm... fried chicken.