You painted your paper, you painted your face, and then you painted mine. And then it poured down rain. All of the paint and papers blew into the yard. We laughed and screamed and got soaked together. And then you played in the sink. You made mess after mess with the water. It is an hour of a Saturday that will forever be in my heart. I can still feel the cold brush of paint on my cheek and hear your giggles and voice as you painted mama. The beauty of simple. I cling to it.