My six year old son - the one who didn't pick up a crayon for coloring purposes until age 5 and who has drawn for me literally 4 pictures since that time - is currently drawing me a picture. He has been working on it for about 3 hours. He has panicked every time I have entered the room, shouting, "Don't look! don't look! Mom, can you go to another room please? I don't want you to see this yet. I am drawing it for you."
I am, of couse, delighted at the effort and energy he has put forth. I have one problem, though, and I am contemplating it more and more as the hours pass and he continues to work: the canvas he chose. You see, our live-in supernanny just bought a queen-sized bed frame from IKEA. Her wonderful fiance set it up last night and when the boys woke up the next morning they saw the cardboard box that queen-size frame came in. The box, when in it's original box-shape, was about 3 feet by 6 feet. But the box somehow got opened up so it is now one flat piece of cardboard. Yes. his canvas is larger than a doorway. Larger than a set of french doors. About the length of a Dodge Grand Caravan.
I have done my best to not look at what he is making, but I did see in my periphery several big red 6-year-old hearts. Where on earth am I going to display all that hard work?
Check back later for a photo of the finished product (and where I figured out to display it).