Ryan at seven years old. Time flies.....

My 13-year-old went to her grade school prom today. It's a sweet moment as I get a glimpse of her turning into a true teenager. Her dress was white and lacy and had tones of silver and glitter all over. Her aunt came over to do her hair and makeup, better than a salon. I watched at the sidelines (makeup and hair just isn't my thing) as my daughter popped grapes into her mouth while her hair was straightened. We laughed at silly gossip about the Kardashians and episodes of Botched! My husband walked in, said hi, and walked out as the discussion headed towards "women's" issues. My 13-year-old will one day be a woman. Her aunt and I caught a glimpse of this bittersweet fact.

*sigh*

So, today I celebrate my daughter and her grade school prom.

It's really all about the simple things...

One of the things I love about blogging and reading up on other blogger's lives is the inspiration I get to share things I wouldn't normally share. I just read Sara C. Snider's post, Magical Moments, about her recent experience walking through the woods, and the question she posted at the bottom inspired me to write this entry. She asked, "Do you have any favorite magical moments?"

At first, I thought, "Nope. Not recently." But then, I asked myself, "If I had to choose a magical moment from the past few weeks, what would it be?" Instantly, I thought of art time with my 7-year-old son. Here's why...

Our art tray: a shoe box with mugs holding supplies.

Until just a few weeks ago, my son hated art. The task of coloring or drawing was always met with groans or lazy arms that suddenly lacked the strength to hold up a crayon. And that's what it was to him - a task forced upon him by his art teacher or his parents. His art sessions at home would often end with a quarter of a sheet of paper filled with his name and maybe a stick figure with a happy face. And that's after, maybe, an hour sitting at the table staring at the tray of art supplies. Inspiration was missing, and he hated the process.

So I gave up on it and claimed personality differences. Just like my daughter was a natural artist who didn't liked playing sports when she was younger, my son was a natural athlete who didn't like to create art. I stopped forcing him, but it continued to bug me.