I got a colouring book for Christmas, and it has surprised me how much I like it. Colouring books for adults are everywhere these days – even in the magazine rack at the supermarket. I’ve never considered buying one for myself. I have no shortage of activities to fill my time. But now that I have a colouring book, I use it more than I had expected. It’s an excellent time-filler for those little gaps when I’m waiting for something (Ingrid to finish brushing her teeth, or potatoes to finish cooking) and the time is too short to pick up a book – or when it’s late at night and I’m too tired to do anything demanding, but not tired enough to go to bed. Previously I would have been tempted to just browse reddit or gotten stuck in some blog. Colouring is a better alternative.

Another reason why I haven’t thought of buying a colouring book is that I simply don’t think of myself as an artistic person. I have my elementary school teachers to thank for that – they taught me that I cannot sing or draw or paint. Drawing is the quintessential “art”, so at the back of my head I’ve always equated “creative and artistic” to “can draw”.

The years have taught me that none of that is true. Yes, my singing may sound awful to a trained ear, but that does not mean I cannot sing. Yes, drawing is an art, but drawing is not the only way to be creative. I write, I photograph, I sew and craft, I design our garden. Even programming is a creative endeavour!