Friday, April 17, 2009

45.1: Home/On The Couch

"Luka, you are not giving him a paintbrush." It took every ounce of willpower in her for Abby not to stop what she was doing to prevent just that as she saw Joe hovering close to Luka while he readied the paint for the living-room wall.

"He'll be fine, I'll give him a bath when we finish. Right, Joe, you want to help Tata paint, don't you?" As he asked the question, Luka handed the 3 year old a small brush.

"Joe, paint." The boy gleefully waved the brush before eying the bucket in anticipation of what was yet to come.

"Oops, before we do that, we better put this on you." Reaching for the adult tee shirt that lay next to the bucket, Luka pulled it over his son's head, only to smile as he saw that it very nearly touched the floor on him.

"Maybe I should have used one of yours instead of mine." He joked as he shot a glance to Abby all while still keeping his eye on their son.

"Funny. You do realize we're planning to be in this home for some time, are you sure you want his handiwork on the walls? I can find something else to keep him busy." Abby couldn't hold back the grimace as Joe got closer to the paint.

"Abby, you worry too much, we've got it covered. Isn't that right, Joe? Let's get you some paint." Guiding his son's brush into the bucket, Luka put just enough paint on it to allow him to feel like he was helping before dipping his own.

"Okay, Joe, paint just like Tata, up and down, back and forth." He guided the toddler through several cycles before coating his brush a final time and turning him loose on a section of wall.

"Up, down." Joe echoed his father's words as he slapped the paint on the wall before him, oblivious of the paint that dripped onto his hand and down to the drop-cloth he stood on.

"Joe, paint." His smile spread rapidly across his face as he grew more confident with what he was doing and it wasn't long before he was even dipping his own brush.

"Good job, Joe." Luka reached over to ruffle the boy's hair as he offered the praise, who would have thought it would have gone so well.

The apartment in Chicago had always been his, people came and went, but this place, this was a home, a family lived here, and when people saw it, there would never be any doubt of that.

The End

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