Caitlin does a wonderful job of taking care of her kitten, Finnegan. (I still can’t get over that my daughter has turned out to be a cat person rather than a dog person…) Except for one thing. She’s not loving cleaning the litter box, and so needs to be reminded.
When I ask her this morning, she replies that she hasn’t. I suggest that she take care of it, while it’s still fresh on her mind.
She starts walking out of the room to do it, hesitates, turns and says, “Mom, you know that Finnegan is quite an artist.”
“Yeah, what’s his canvas?” I ask.
“His litter box,” Cait says. “I’ve found all kinds of incredible shapes and images.”
“Really,” I reply, thinking that’s the one place I’ve never thought to look for art.
“Yeah, really.” Cait explains, “Like yesterday I found this clump that looked like a hand grasping buttons. And a poop that was in the shape of a heart. All kinds of cool stuff.”
Andrew, not wanting to hear any more of the details, makes a quick exit from the kitchen.
Knowing how easily he’s grossed out by such conversations, Cait teases, “Yeah, Dad. Run. Run for your life!”
Andrew chuckles as he scurries away. The race is on, as Cait chases after him.
Left with a moment of quiet, I sit by myself to contemplate. That old adage is true: Art is everywhere. If you’re willing to strike the word “ugly” from your vocabulary, and look instead through the lens of pure creativity, a whole new world opens up. Another lesson learned from my Yoda daughter.