A wall in our kitchen is adorned with my two daughters’ artwork and I love it – even the particularly unflattering ‘portrait’ of me with a big purple face and spots.
I especially like it when I’m presented with a picture that’s seemingly of nothing – a few blobs of paint, some scribbles and scraps of material – and then my daughter explains in great detail what everything is. Those are the pieces that I treasure. They tell a story and have real meaning to my child.
The ones that I don’t hold any sentiment for are the creations that have obviously been directed by a staff member – the potato-print Hungry Caterpillar, tissue-paper Mother’s Day daffodils and the multitude of cards with handprint hearts, flowers or Christmas trees. Yawn! They don’t showcase my child’s personality or creativity, just a practitioner who has spent too much time on Pinterest.
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