Most of the Sunday’s that I can recall from my childhood were spent being dragged around by mother to art galleries or art fairs or art museums. This is not an exaggeration. GiGi is passionate about art. Major milestones were always marked with a piece of art, whether it be something she created herself, or something she found in her travels that made her think of us. “Us” would be my brother and myself. And my brother is now an artist, too. Technically, a shoe designer. But that’s just his trade. His passion, just like my mother, is art. And I suppose I got the bug, too. Although I can’t draw or paint or sculpt to save my life. But I love art. I collect it. Passionately.

GiGi has begun the tradition of art as gifts for my girls, as well. A delightful tradition, art is something that can be passed on to their own children. It’s a tangible reminder of their grandmother, long after she is gone. Toys come and go in this household, pieces go missing, Pea loses interest, they get boxed up and sent to the Salvation Army. But art, art is forever.

Pea would spend her afternoon’s creating her own masterpieces and nothing else, if we let her. And so not that long ago, my husband found this amazing book, “How to Talk to Children About Art,” about how to talk to children about art in a manner that they can understand. And you just wouldn’t think a book like this would be necessary, right? How difficult can it be to “teach” a child about the magic of creating? But I can tell you that as someone who considers herself pretty well-versed in art, it’s just not that simple. But that’s where this wonderful little book comes in. It touches on some famous paintings, the history behind them, little known tidbits you yourself will be surprised to learn. And although it’s geared towards children about 8 years and up, I just don’t think it’s ever too early to get kids talking about and interested in art. I can tell you that my favorite painting as a child, not much older than Pea, was “Christina’s World,” by Andrew Wyeth. And although over the years, my tastes in art have grown more sophisticated, this painting still speaks to me. When I see it, I am a little girl again, standing next to my mother, who is explaining to me that Christina is paralyzed, and how does that make me feel? Does that change the way I feel about the painting? Is it more sad? Less sad? Art opened up a whole new world for me as a child, a subjective world much larger than my own. I hope to share that world with my girls.