An Ode to the Invisible Toddler Artists of this World.
He catches you unawares
A smiley face on the door
His sister’s name (misspelled) on the stairs
Banksy’s in my house
He lulls you into a false sense of security
By not starting aged two
This artist embraces maturity
The Banksy in my house
He darts two and fro
Hides behind curtains, under tables
You’ll never see him though…
The Banksy in this house
Confront him you may
But through clenched milk teeth he’ll lie
‘It was my sister!’, your four year old will say
The Banksy in my house
Felt tip, crayon or pen
His repertoire spreads
But you’ll never know when
The Banksy in my house
A self portrait in the wardrobe
Can you be sure it was him?
Hell yes. There’s blue biro on his earlobe
The Banksy in my house
Correct him at your peril
‘Cos the more you talk art…
… the more he’ll graffiti like a devil
The Banksy in my house
Then it hits you ‘Eureka!’
You throw him a cloth
And soapy water in a beaker
Banksy can clean up your house!
But don’t rest on your laurels
It’s his birthday, brand new paints so…
Out the window go his morals
Banksy’s feet are well and truly back under the table in your house
For Banksy IS the Road Runner
You wipe one drawing away
He’ll be back with 10 others
The Banksies in our houses are here to stay…
The solution? Turn your walls into murals
Or lay mammoth sized sheets of paper in your paddock
Outside your home somewhere rural
But we’re not all Earth Mamas or Kirstie Allsopps
This needs some thought
I scratch my head
Aha, outdoor chalk!
Banksy is on the patio
He CACO3s all night, he CACO3s all day
Decking, drainpipes and bar-be-que
Then the rain washes it away
How I love this gorgeous little talented cutie of a Banksy in my garden
So parents fear not
For Banksyism is but a phase
Guaranteed to happen to YOUR tot
But chalk and pavement will keep you sane…
And failing that… SURRENDER!
