I have never been artistic or remotely creative. My abilities have only ever extended as far as crocheting and even that was only because I am good at small, repetitive tasks mixed thoroughly with an unhealthy dose of perfectionism. Just ask my mom about my ability to pick wallpaper. Or the aptitude test I took in school that told me I should be a factory worker. So for me to even have the desire is commendable. And oh do I have an itch to scratch.
What I have attempted lately has been very easy, but looks more amazing than I really am. Last minute I decided to create this for my miracle twin cousins who just turned 1! Because if I am not rushing with a deadline looming, then there is no sense in doing it.
I figured it would be fun to celebrate every inch of our miracle babies. We all love them so much and wished and prayed, and wished and prayed, and wished and prayed some more for them to be a part of our family. Now their parents can mark their growth.
I was able to do this with a little wood, paint, stickers, mod podge, and couple hours of time. It only took that long because of dry time. What's strange is how fulfilled I am with these little projects. Yet with each completion, my craving to do more gets stronger. Maybe it's the paint fumes. 
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