My friend was over with his son the other day.
My friend has been to my place plenty of times, his son too, but it’s only now he’s starting to explore the world on his own.
He grabbed the markers from my white board and was popping the lid on and off. His mum watched on hoping he wouldn’t put the marker in his mouth.
“Don’t let him get it on the walls.” Said Dad.
“It’s okay,” I said, “they could do with a bit of artwork.”
“Do you have any paper?” Mum asked.
I flipped over my notepad and handed it to her.
He took the marker and sat on the ground. Looked at the paper, looked at Mum. She pointed to the paper.
He started drawing.
Up the page, down the page, left, right, up, around. He stopped, looked at Mum, then kept going. Up, down, left. A line here, a line there.
We were all watching but he was drawing as if no one was. It didn’t matter what we thought, he was making the thing he wanted to make.
He finished and put the marker on the ground, then walked off into the next room to explore some more.
That was it. He left his creation. Put his work out in the world and moved onto the next thing.
We could all do with a little of that.
Explore, play a little, make something, onto the next.
I kept the drawing. It’s going on my wall as a reminder.
I’ll show him one day.