Today we painted, and Dot was on edge. She painted her hands, then slapped them on the paper, stippling it with her handprints. The metal surface of our table rang out like a drum as she worked out her feelings.

Six toddler drawings laid on a table.
Step 1: Turn anger into art.

I laid the paintings out to dry, then after her nap I cut them into hearts. I’m not good at crafts at the best of times, and it’s even harder when a toddler is holding on to the paper saying, “I hold the scissors. I try the scissors. I cut the paper.”

Multi-coloured hearts laid out on a table.
Step 2: You can’t write ‘heart’ without ‘art.”

Then, we taped them to the window. We live near a hospital, and people have been decorating their windows with rainbows and hearts to cheer up the healthcare workers and thank them. Dot passed me the hearts, and I taped them on. She was very adamant that she didn’t want to tape them herself. Also, she had a precise location in mind for each one. And she insisted that a single triangle be included, because she likes triangles very much.

“Pass me a heart,” I would say, and she’d climb off the couch and choose the perfect one.

“This one is a good idea,” she said. “It’s a good plan.”

“Pass me another one,” I’d say.

“Oh, it’s a good idea,” she’d say, handing me a red heart.

Step 3: The finished product.

It felt good to channel our feelings into paint, and then into imperfect hearts. It felt good to offer our imperfect hearts to everyone on the street, knowing that they’re too far away to see our ragged edges.