I’ve already told you all about my artistic husband and his ability to paint landscapes as a teen that made grown-up me swoon. And I do, indeed, love the fact that he has the ability to create like that– it’s a nice surprise, especially in a guy who deals with finances all day.
Because of this, it’s no surprise that, when the kids ask for someone to draw, say, a minotaur, I defer to their daddy; he’s much more suited to the job. But it goes beyond that.
When our daughter chose, out of all the lovely treasures before her, a beading set? I won’t lie to you– I cringed. Her fine motor skills are just not that precise. She’s sometimes klutzy. She can create a disaster out of a bagel… but we’re going to let her buy some beaded bracelet making extravaganza?
I gave him the side-eye.
He just smiled and insisted, “It’ll be fine.”
The following Sunday, after Mass, I stood in the kitchen, preparing brunch for the crew. From the family room came lots of giggles. I heard discussions about colors. Decisions about lengths. And kind offers to make things for siblings. I peeked around the corner…
There, on the the hardwood floor, sat my husband, our daughter, and a bead machine. Carefully, he helped her load them in so they could make her masterpieces.
By the time brunch was cooked, five bracelets had been created. She was all smiles.
So was I.
You see, I handle lots of the “day-to-day” stuff around here. Homework? Almost always my domain. Checking reading logs? Me. Keeping research projects on track? Me. Explaining math 852 different ways until hair-pulling is imminent? Me, again.
I make the charts. Sign the papers. Write the checks. Organize the journals.
But you know what I don’t do?
Come up with turkey disguises.
As soon as I saw that assignment, I knew I was handing it off.
Lucky for me, there’s an adult in this house better suited for the crafty, artsy-fartsy stuff than me.
I married him.