Broken Jars

The prodigal daughter has Art class this half of the year.  They were starting a painting project dealing with fore, middle, and background.  They were going to paint on different mediums, not paper or canvas.  I thought it was a great project, then I realized what the above mentioned aspects meant.  I had some work to do.

The photo she wanted was one from our Disney trip.  No big deal, they were all in one place because I am like that.  They were on the flash drive labeled “Disney Photos”.  Where else would they be?  Except for one.  The one I actually ordered from the Disney photographers and framed.  The one that was packed away while I redid the living room.  And surprise, surprise, THAT was the one she wanted.

I managed to find one from our camera that was clear enough she could use it.  One down, one to go.  What to paint on, what to paint on.  The prodigal daughter wanted my stool.  The stool I actually use in the basement.  One of the only seats that was high enough for my craft bench, which is what I bought it for.  I dug a board out of the garage.  Not good enough.  I suggested a glass canning jar, quart size.  She scoffed and headed out the door.  When she returned home that afternoon, the jar became the best thing ever.  Because the Art teacher said so.

I did find a glass jar purchased before marriage and children, back when Pier One actually had cool stuff.  It was designed to look old with a big cork instead of a lid.  I gave up my funky jar for the art project.  I would have taken it into school for her that day, I started in her building, but she’s a tweener and I knew if I suggested it, I would have been rebuffed.  So I shut my mouth and headed to work.

Where I found her in the back hallway.  With part of the jar.  The other part?  In pieces on the floor.  It had broken on the bus.  Which SHOCKED me.  A large glass jar, in a backpack, on a school bus.  And it BROKE?  WHAT?!?  How could this have happened?  Which is what the prodigal daughter wondered aloud as we cleaned up the chunks of glass.  I just shook my head.

She still did the art project.  I had a matching jar at home which I transported to the art room the next day, and the Art teacher and I had a giggle.

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