You know, I am ashamed of myself and taken aback by something I have learned just reading your post.
When my toddler makes messes, I get mad at her. I fail to see the child-like beauty that comes from her little genius mind....I don't even see it that way when it happens. For someone who claims to think outside the box, living a creative life, I am a mommy who has been way too anal about how clean that damn Box is.
My poor little Devil....I am so mean to her when she creates masterpieces, and I have the nerve to call them "messes" and "yucky" and "Why-did-you-do-that?s". I feel just awful. And I wonder why she acts out at me.
Too peppery pork chop bits swirled in a cup of water.
Cereal milk dribbled on the table and spread around with finger-painting smears and a complimentary splash on the floor.
Raisins spread out in a perfect copy of a fireworks blast, even some stuck down in the seam of the plastic picnic table that she sits at...what detail.
I've decided not to yell or ask her why she did that or grunt Marge Simpson grumbles, or hiss "GOD!" when I have to clean these things up.
The only hard part is not resenting the fact that even if I do concede to consider them works of art, I still have to do the dirty work after the fact. I can't imagine my husband coming home to sticky-milk-floor, raisin confetti and cloudy water and hearing me say "It's Art."