Earlier this summer, oh did I say summer, I meant Season of Many Street Fairs, we went to the Sapperton Days Street Festival in Historic Sapperton, New Westminster, BC and there we did see many things that peaked our interest.
SA and I saw:
– city councillors racing on tiny tricycles
– a smooth-voiced radio DJ as MC
– real estate agents
– free lollipops at the barber shop!
Fresco saw:
– a train!
– hot dogs!
and for Trombone:
– BMX bikes doing tricks
– a train
– a clown doing balloon art
– hot dogs, hold the mustard
– a woman doing face painting!
He had his face painted as a cat. He was adorable. He is a fair child so the dark eyebrows really gave him a lot of definition. He slept in the face paint and the next day looked more like Liza Minnelli but no matter. He loved it, preening in front of all reflective surfaces.
It occurs to me that Fresco had hardly any reaction at all. Was just, oh, hey, it’s my brother with his face painted like a cat. Cool. Does this say something about Fresco as a person or 13 month olds (as he was, then) in general?
For this instant love of face paint, I purchased a package of paints for Trombone’s birthday party. Saint Aardvark did his best to replicate the “tiger” look illustrated on the box of paints and he made three little boys into some pretty fierce tigers.
A couple of weeks ago, we were about to go somewhere and Trombone said, “Can you paint my face?” My first thought was no. After all there was no festivity that day, no fair, no occasion. And after all, I love to say no. Ask either of my children. But then I thought about lipstick. Who needs an occasion for a painted face, I thought. So I said sure. Let’s paint your face.
Why not. It’s like carrying balloons around just because. Everything feels a bit more festive. (but I have to practice, I think, because clowns can be very scary if done sloppily)
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