There is a danger to one's children when one is an artist.
For instance, a couple of weeks ago I was sitting at the piano in the children's Sunday School when I overhear my child (the piano blocks my view of the kids - my ears are attuned for any Kiff-trocities in the making) saying "I'm folding a book."
While that may be music to my ears on some occasions, I knew the only book he had a church was his Book of Mormon. I sat up and looked over the piano to a little boy sitting in his class row, beaming at me as he proceeded to fold his little book of scripture. His teacher, a 20-something young man was horrified, but paralyzed with indecision. Immediately I made frantic flapping motions for Kiff to come to me.
He came over and eagerly showed me his creation. I made a classic mom-mistake and squashed his enthusiasm with panic over his actions - YOU CAN'T DO THAT AT CHURCH - IN FACT, YOU CAN'T DO THAT ANYWHWERE- PEOPLE WILL THINK I'VE TAUGHT YOU TO DESECRATE HOLY WRIT!!!! Kenneth is not a child with thin skin. He tried to explain what he was doing and how wonderful it was. I agreed that his artistic zealotry was a good thing, but ill-timed. And I sent him back to his seat, having extracted a pouty promise to undo the slightly-blasphemous damage.
His teacher was grinning.
That afternoon, I'm sitting on the couch watching Dr. Who because I like to think that if Jesus came over to my house on a Sunday, maybe He'd like to watch Dr. Who, too. We'd both laugh at the same things and shake our heads at the obvious wrong-headed-ness of other things.
Imagine my amazement when a little boy taps me on the elbow and says, "Look at what I'm doing."
He'd found one of my (many) Reader's Digest books and had been sitting in the next room folding for most of an hour. (I thought he'd been drawing - bad mommy.)
He needed help holding the pages away so he could continue folding. All the while he folded, he explained to me what pattern he was making and a hundred other things that I can't remember because all I could think was my little boy loves me enough to copy me ♥♥♥
When he finished (yes, he FINISHED it), I made him stand still with it long enough for me to take a picture.
The little Book of Mormon is mortally wounded from its experience being folded and I'm sure there is a lesson for me in that somewhere. For now, I'm just excited at having my footsteps followed by a little boy I love more than life itself.