Another person who moves me is my daughter. She is an amazing little person. She is so smart that she can frighten me. She spoke a hundred words when she was one. (my husband and I counted) She is extremely verbal and worries about black holes. She is only three. She sits in front of the mirror staring at her reflection as she makes different expressions. Caya happy. Caya sad. Caya surprised. She says she will never stop looking at herself- because she loves herself. She draws unbelievable little people with eyelashes and tutus that dance, cry, and have babies. She sings songs that she makes up with beautiful melodies about how much she loves me. She can also throw a tantrum that can make my blood curdle. She is already telling me that I am ruining her life- just because she can't wear her favorite dress to eat spaghetti. Her new sibling has only increased her penchant for drama. Again she is only three. Through her, I am learning how to be patient and accept her for all that she is- but it is not always easy. I still can't believe I taught parenting classes. I clearly didn't know anything at all about raising a child.
So- in this painting, I began to wonder about Frida. I started stamping in the background... "I wonder what you were like when you were a little girl. Were you exquisitely sensitive? Could you throw a terrible tantrum when things did not go your way? Could you be silly? Did you want to be a princess? Did you know that you were beautiful- wonderful?" I answered on her dress "yes".










