I pride myself in arriving on-time or early for appointments and when I pick them up from anything. However, my on-time arrival backfired this afternoon.
“Hi, Iz!” I called from the art room door.
Isabelle dropped her paintbrush.
“I’ll wait while you finish up,” I said.
“I’m finished,” she replied.
I looked at the background of her watercolor painting. “Are you sure you’re finished? Looks like you’re still working on the background.”
“I’m finished,” she insisted.
I looked at her art teacher and shrugged.
“You should come five minutes late,” she said.
I chuckled. “No kidding. Maybe she’d finish if I did.”
We took the watercolor painting with us as we walked out.
“Who’s in your picture?” I asked.
“Me and Ari,” she replied. “The big one is me and the little one is Ari.”
I studied the picture closely. I noticed my blond son’s hair had been granted artistic license by Isabelle. “Why is Ari’s hair purple?”
“I don’t know,” she giggled.
Maybe she would’ve finished the background if I had been late, but you know what would’ve remained the same? Ari’s purple hair.