I am not one to encourage the stifling of the creative arts, but I just may have to with Mr. Personality. It seems that a fulfilling art experience includes about 40 seconds of drawing with the utensil of choice, and then is not complete without either breaking said utensil or trying to throw it across the room in frustration when it does not bend to his will.
The deluxe package of 16 crayons doesn't seem so hot anymore when you now have over 32 different pieces of crayon strewn about the floor, as well as the requirement that all of the paper be torn off each portion. When he couldn't quite get all the paper off, I stupidly obliged his request for, "Help, Mama" thinking that if I did, perhaps he would get back to the drawing part.
For Christmas, Mr. Personality received one of those great 20 dollar easels from Ikea, the one that is a chalkboard on one side and a whiteboard on the other. So far, not much has been done with it, as he is more interested in taking the caps off of the markers and chucking them, thus resulting in frantic searches to find the caps before the markers dry out. I have already failed at least three markers, and we are now down to only five.
I always pictured my child sitting on the floor with his crayons stored neatly in their box, coloring pictures with calm focus. What I didn't expect was an artist more along the lines of Jackson Pollock, complete with flailing limbs and scorching intensity, at least for the 40 seconds the crayon is actually in his hand.
I guess I will just have to suck it up and call it my sacrifice in the name of the arts.