Painting With A Child

It was mid-morning, and I was babysitting my five-year-old brother while Mum was out of the house. 

I can't even remember what we were chatting about, but the subject turned to mixing colours.  He wanted to know what pink and red made, then pink and white, then asked what red and yellow would make.

I was surprised when he was interested in the answers; he'd never really asked questions about colours before - and being an arty person, I was happy to fill him in.

When he asked how to make a rainbow, and I told him red, orange, yellow, green, and blue stripes; he suggested we get the paints out so he could mix some colours up and make a rainbow.

At this request I hesitated.  Memories of past painting experiences flashed before my eyes.  

"Uhhh, maybe we could use crayons?"  I asked hopefully.  He wasn't changing his mind.

"No, crayons are too hard.  Paints can mix."

"Ok, just let me think about it."  I looked around the room, aware that the clock was now ticking.  If the paints weren't set up soon, he'd take it upon himself to organise everything, and let's just say I wasn't ready for that to happen anytime soon.

Thus, I was forced to concede.  Newspaper was spread on the table for protection, brushes were found, and I gathered together a few containers for him to mix things.  

If there's one thing I've learned about painting with children, NEVER put the paints on a palette, and let them use one brush.  Horrors.

Each colour must have it's own container and brush.   I repeat - IT'S OWN CONTAINER AND BRUSH.  Only the very bravest of parents venture into the world of brush cleaning and one-surface-for-all-the-colours-land.

Hoping I wouldn't have to use any of my ~expensive~ paints, I searched through the cupboards and found four bottles of paint which were there soley for this purpose.

Said purpose consists mainly of having their entire contents emptied in one squeeze.  Usually onto an uprotected piece of table, the child's body, or the floor.

Red, blue, yellow and white.  We should be able to get the rainbow out of all these colours.  But before I could start calculating ratios, afore-mentioned younger brother was squeezing paint into the pots, and dipping the paintbrushes in, splatting it up the edges of the containers and out onto the (thankfully entirely protected) table.

A few pannicky minutes later, where I tried to mix up a few colours, and he worked on one particularly muddy one, we were ready to begin painting.

I found some pieces of cardboard which wouldn't warp when smothered in paint, and before I had even sat down to start my painting, the specially mixed brown had been spread all over the newspaper.
"Wait, no!  Paint on the cardboard."  I scooted more newspaper over the splotches, trying to remain calm.  
"Here."  I slid the cardboard under the brush, and it was lowered immediately, his specialty brown being painted in a beautiful arc.

"Very nice!"  I sat down and attempted to relax.  The table was protected, the paints had been mixed, and the child was sitting quietly painting stripes of colour on the cardboard.

It was quiet for a while, apart from happy little comments about what the colours were, and that this piece was a tree etc etc.

In this moment of calm, I realized how fun it was to splash around with colours.  Knowing that all the paint would have to be thrown away afterwards anyway, I scooped up big blobs of paint and dobbed them all over the cardboard, feeling a little bit of childish freedom again.  

I finished my rainbow and watched him for a little while, trying to judge how long this was going to last.  The idea is to finish the project just before it goes to custard, but while the child is still enjoying it.  

There's a small window of opportunity between interrupting their enjoyment and letting things run amok.  

I think I found the window, though, because everything after that ran pretty smoothly.  Dad appeared to help clean the hands, arms and face of the child, and I tidied up the table a bit.

Now I just have to keep the child away from the table where our masterpieces are drying, and find a range of new projects to keep him happy until lunchtime, which seems a long way away, but we'll get there eventually.

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So that's the end of the story.  We survived another painting session!

There's no predicting how well each time is going to go, but as long as the child has been fed, and there are adequate protection measures in place, things will likely go more smoothly.