My Arm Needed Artwork, Apparently

Don’t ask me what the heck he was thinking, the kid colors everything. I guess I was next. I needed something pretty. My arm was too bare. (Take your pick on his what his reasoning was.)

And? I didn’t wash it off. Some of the soccer parents may have been looking at me a tad funny tonight, half-drawn on arms. I didn’t scrub. I didn’t even try. He wanted it there, and so it stayed.

Eventually, the pen-marks, the crayon, the marker drawn walls will be gone. The house will be empty. Their childhoods over, and my days of mothering littles complete. I try not to think of those times, and focus on the now. And during that now, he wanted to draw. On me. His living artwork display.

So be it.

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