I’m that mom who itches to help position the paper trees on my daughter’s paper so they’re standing up the right way, the way trees are supposed to stand.

Ugh. And I call myself creative.

I’m that mom who has to hold back from snatching up the glue stick when I have the STRONGEST urge EVER to help her finish putting the leaves on.

“Mom, that’s not where they go, mom. Mom, no!”

She’s three. I’m so proud of her.

She’s teaching me how to trust her beautiful brain, her artistic process, trust that life is much bigger than me and my tiny, little need to get it “right.”

In the end, when given space, children always surprise you with thoughts and art and comments that are so profound that they bend your stale, adult mind into fits of joy.