God Bless “Creativity”

Staring at the mural scribbled across Dash’s wall, armed with only a rag and Lysol Clean Up, I realize that not only do I want to pretend it doesn’t exist, but that there is also a “drawing” on the back of the bedroom door that I hadn’t noticed previously.

“Hey, look at it this way,” Mike says. “He’s really creative.”

Creative? Are you kidding me? What’s creative about scribbling against the first surface you see every morning when you wake up? Creative would be a Post It note collage or a hand-blown tea cup featuring his signature. Long purple lines across a bedroom wall isn’t creative, it’s malicious and instigatory!

Sure, I’m leaving it up there for now so I can get a photo of him next to it. We’ll title it “Dash’s ‘Art’” and proudly display it on the photo table. We won’t, however, refer to it as some sort of testament to his creativity. If every single damn child I ever came across hadn’t done the exact same friggin thing, I might be able to classify it as some sort of bold movement, but as it stands, it’s a pain in my ass.