Big E was beaming with pride as his teacher handed over his painting.
OH, BIG E, IT IS WONDERFUL!
Now, I'm not sure how much help he had, but for a three year old, I thought it truly was awesome.
NO, HE MESSED UP SOME!
I looked down at one of his fellow campers. I'd say she was about five. I suppressed the urge to punch her in the gut.
I'm not a confrontational person. Not even a little. I say all sorts of nasty things in my head, but never release them to the general public, unless it is in my semi-anonymous blog.
IT IS NOT MESSED UP, IT IS BEAUTIFUL! BIG E, I LOVE IT SO MUCH!
I quickly snapped back at her. Big E's wide, proud smile faded to a very faint one.
YOUR PAINTING SUCKS WORSE, LITTLE GIRL!
Again, I didn't actually say that. Because I am an adult and know better, allegedly.
I grabbed Big E, his painting, thanked his teacher and got the hell out of that over critical room.
Please tell me I'm not overreacting. I was really mad. Don't rain on my kid's parade, just because your parents are poo-pooing everything you do.
And that was the end of my fight with a five year old.
Big E's painting. I'd say it's better than a lot of stuff hanging in the art museum.