Waste Out of Best

Today, as usual, fifteen minutes before 5'o clock I ran around the house like a madman trying to find the essential items for my sister's summer camp art class. Colored paper, check. Crayons, check. Pencil box, check. Matchsticks, che- Wait, What!? Seriously, what were these people thinking? Did they want the kids to set the house on fire? 

One thing I had learned in the entire five-year existence of my sister that never ever keep important things or hell, anything breakable near these curious five-year-old creatures or the whole household was bound to land up in the hospital. A full minute of adjusting the matches to one box from another and then voila, I had an empty matchbox. There was no way that I was going to let my sister have the upper hand. 

Ten minutes later the class started. Eager children greeted their friends not in the least minding the teacher in the background. Soon the session started, some children just doing their own thing, some not having a care in the world, some hanging on each word the teacher said or an overenthusiastic bunch trying to butt in everything to which the cool and collected teacher ( I have no idea how) answered to patiently. I would kill to have that kind of patience. Phew! To handle these tantrum-throwing brats, she definitely possessed some kind of superpower. 

After throwing in a mixture of glue, Pencil shavings, sketch pens, and buzzing bees, my sister and I finally managed to finish the best out of waste activity. Well, you could say the most work was done by dear old' me to which my sister objected harshly, and I just politely (sarcastic) declined since we didn't need a Mona Lisa 2.0. The second activity started after a ten-minute break. 

The moment I saw what the activity was about, I just stood there with my jaw hung open to the point that my sister had to close it. "Didi, let's start" my sister spoke taking my gaze away from the laptop screen. "No, absolutely not. We are not making that hideous thing." "How can it be hideous. It looks fun to make flowers with matchstick" I just gave her a deadpan look which meant that my decision was final. 

At that point, tears gathered in her eyes and the dam looked ready to burst open. A resigned sigh escaped as my sister ran to our dad shouting how unfair I was. Unfair? Me? I was just pointing out the most obvious thing. I mean this activity was all about making the best out of waste. How can you use not so unusable matchsticks whose fate is decided in making the most horrible flower in the history of flowers? 

I quickly point out my anger at the poor teacher who looks ready to bash her head on a wall. I wait for five minutes, no reply. At that point, my dad comes out and tells me to let my sister do whatever she wants. After about arguing for an eternity, I realize I am fighting a losing battle. 

Finally, I give up. As I am drinking my milk that is practically akin to licking my battle wounds, I promise my wounded pride that they won the battle but I'll win the war. Soon my sister's masterpiece she made herself is ready. While she shows me her artwork praising herself, I am belly laughing inside so hard I worry that milk will spout out of my nose. My poor, poor parents. Now I realize why they are worked up half the time.

                                         Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you ...........

                                                       MONA LISA 2.0