I think I met an alien today in art class.

Either that, or I met the anti-Diva; my living opposite. If we all have a twin walking around this earth, then it stands to reason that we must also have our exact opposite, and mine was facing me in an art class for 4 year olds.

Toddler Diva and I enrolled in this art class a couple of weeks ago. I say we because even though she does most of the creating, I walk out looking like as if my hair was her canvas. Admittedly, this is not my cup of tea, but Toddler Diva is absolutely enamored with this activity. The class is taught by the perfect person in the world to teach art to a room of preschool children. She is Mary Poppins with glue sticks. She has this adorable sing-song Australian accent that is an octave higher than normal adults so that young ears cock at its sound and listen intently like puppies. I have absolutely no idea what she is saying, but I think that's the point.

I didn't recognize the Anti-Diva as such right away (how would you know you were meeting your extra terrestrial opposite at first glance?) but the first sentence out of her mouth was a key to her identity.

"Oh, look at that cute baby! Mommy had better bundle her up better or she'll catch a cold," she said to some unknown audience since she wasn't directly addressing me. The accusation confused me since it was 78 degrees here in Florida, Earth. And since I didn't understand one word of her second sentence: "I never say my child's artwork is 'beautiful' because that is a judgment," I surmised she must be from a space igloo on Jupiter speaking a regional dialect of Martian.

Now if you recall from the movie, Mary Poppins was the eccentric governess not the maid. So Mary has no qualms about setting out kiddy cocktails of paint, glitter and pure squid ink in lidless cups placed precariously on a bed of marbles. I may not be the brightest rhinestone in the tiara, but I do figure that an art class for a dozen preschoolers is going to be messy. Heck, a nap and a bath usually require a HazMat crew, so for activities in which markers are involved, I dress accordingly. But Anti Diva became unglued as Lindsay tie-dyed her sleeves. Her mother retrieved road flares and a mini centrifuge from her emergency kit so Lindsay "did not have to worry, Mommy will get that out before the stain sets."

It was my guess that Anti Diva had just returned from a weekend retreat on new parenting techniques that included announcing every action and thought you have and then referring to yourself in the third person.

I've found that for every adult that sounds like Mary Poppins, there is another that sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher to a child. At one point she declared, "Mommy is not going to conduct negotiations with you at present, Lindsay." From her tone and vocabulary, I was not certain if Lindsay was her daughter or a 3 1/2 foot intern. The only time Anti Diva stopped droning her daughter's ongoing itinerary was to ask me personal questions about my fertility and last year's tax return.

When she started, "My parenting philosophy has always been…" I found myself physically and emotionally exhausted from this alien encounter. I wondered why there are people who choose to make the world's most difficult job--parenting--so much harder in the few blessed moments it doesn't have to be. When the only decision you have to make is whether there needs to be more glitter on that piece of construction paper. And let me even make that a simple decision for you--yes, you can never have enough glitter.

I then look at the kids who are blowing bubbles in a bowl of paint with a straw "to artistically signify the wind," according to Mary Poppins. But to Toddler Diva and Lindsay, blowing bubbles in a bowl of paint with straws signifies the funniest thing EVER, and are laughing their 4 year old heads off.

The alien Anti Diva is missing it as she orbited off into parenting philosophies in 3rd person narrations, but back here on Earth, I was glad that the weather here is mostly sunny with a chance of northeasterly pink bubble winds every Thursday morning.

©2008 Tracey Henry

Divamail me! Divamail@Suburbandiva.com.