Last week, I made a deal with Norah.
Crying, dragging her feet, grumping her way out of preschool, she insisted, "we don't have cool colored pencils like this at home." She pointed to a mug filled with half-chewed crayolas.
I told her about my 48 piece set of Prisma colors. I told her about how the box stands up like an easel. I promised her I'd draw her a portrait of her with her sister when we got home, and I did.
Since then, we've all squished ourselves onto one chair, our favorite chair (the white one) at our table. I've drawn Norah in purple, pink, gold. Avery in green, yellow, lavender. Norah drew her first flower, wrote "DAD" for the first time, and attempted a self portrait. She even thought to mix the brown and gold pencil to color in her hair.
Each day, Avery picks up the pencils in big handfuls. She repeats: red, orange, green, gold, blue. She scribbles each across the page, proud.
Art has taken on all new joy.