tempura paint

My hands smell like tempura paint.  It's quite distinct.  A little cardboard-ish and slightly sweet.  It smells like five-year-olds and dirty hands and a messy table.  It smells like rainbows and trees and miniature houses and soggy paper.  It smells like smiles and happiness.

I'm going to miss the smell of tempura paint... cause one day my kids won't want to play with it anymore; they keep getting older.  It's a reality I can't seem to wrap my head around.  My five year old starts kindergarten in two days and my baby is three.  My oldest is ten and the next one is almost eight.  Crazy.

They are simply a delight to me right now.  Last weekend we went to see Beauty and the Beast in ballet.  Lauren was disappointed that the plot did not adhere to the Disney version, Nicole claimed that talking would make it much easier to understand, Haley reminded us that if we could only see the stage better, it would make more sense, and Addie showed us how we could all dance just like Beauty.  I debated taking all of them because it was a late show and because it was a ballet, and I feared they would be bored.  I knew I would have to take them to the bathroom more than once and I knew there would be some fighting and vying for mom's lap.  All that occurred.  But I wouldn't have traded it for a trip by myself to the show.  They made it more interesting and fun.  Lauren's incessant questions about what was going on made everyone laugh and her observations were even better than the questions.  I adore their confidence and honesty.