I have a four-year-old daughter, Sophie. Last July, one of my very first blog entries, Daddy Don’t You Have Some Baby Music?,  was about how she had already developed her own personality, taste, and requisite ability to discern styles of music. That entry is in my archives.

Okay, so last week, juggling family obligations, I had to take a day off from work to watch Sophie. Towards the afternoon, as I was starting to enervate, she asked me if she could paint at her easel. She’s got one of these swell plastic easels, with lots of space to store paint, brushes, her smock, paper, etc.

So I move the easel to the kitchen, where I’ve put down a big plastic sheet; tear off a nice big piece of paper; load the paint colors Sophie requested into her little paint containers; and, off she goes.

I watched. And watched. And watched. It was fascinating.

Sophie was focused, deliberate, and in her own way, an age-appropriate way, masterful. She did two paintings, we let them dry, and she began to think about when we would show them to her Mommy. Also, we spent some time talking about how she would sign the paintings.

“Masterful,” you may ask? Really, yes, it was. Fair enough, yes, I am a proud parent, but seeing is believing.

What I mean by masterful was not necessarily in the artistic quality of the work–that was besides the point. I mean, she’s a four-year-old. It was in the agency exhibited. It was in the executive function exhibited.

Clearly a very organized but creative world had been established, that was all Sophie. I didn’t direct her at all.

I was once at a conference where someone asked the question of what we were doing to identify and support those truly special children, meaning the girl or boy Mozart.

I replied that I thought all children were special and that all children had talents and it was our job to encourage and provide opportunities to learn and grow throughout their public education, at least

Is Sophie the next Picasso? Not very likely. But, did what we provide for her with that easel, materials, encouragement, etc., help her find her footing, help her become a little mensch? I have no doubt. Did that easel and the little world she had established through it, open a pathway to agency as human being and increased executive function? I have no doubt. And, while I don’t have a study to prove it, I know it when I see it.