Art so good it's SCARY

My kids love to be creative.  And most of the time, I try to let them.  Sometimes I want to say "NO!" to paint or play-doh or moon sand because I know that no matter how careful they are or how much they attempt to clean up that, well, it will just be another mess.  But I resist that urge most of the time and let them express themselves.  Aren't I a good mother?
For example, last night, Jessa wanted to play with play-doh, so I said, "Sure."  She was getting the big container out, and she couldn't find the one with the tools in it.  It hit me that I had left it at church.  When I told her this bit of sad news, she put her hand on her hip and said in her most teenaged voice, "But Mom!  How do you expect me to be creative without the tools? big sigh"  I don't know what my problem is, do you?

So you get it, they love to be artsy.  Well, a few weeks ago, they wanted to do self portraits.  So Jessa got out the paint and paper.  I cut the paper long enough for their little bodies.  They laid down on the paper while I traced their outlines.  And then they painted themselves.  They tried to paint what they had on, and yes, Jessa had on a blue plaid skirt, a red USA shirt, and black and orange striped Halloween socks.  So of course, her portrait did, too.  And yes, Spencer's PJ top was a little short, so his stomach showed a tad.  So of course, his portrait had that detail.

Once they were finished, we let them dry.  And then I face the dilema of all parents.  Now what do I do with this masterpiece?  I would LOVE to save every scrap of every project they ever complete, but that is unrealistic.  And also a storage problem.  And also a fire hazard.  But these were so big and beautiful, we couldn't part with them right away.  They were way too big for our hallway gallery.  So I decided to hang them on the doors in the hall.  They are opposite the rest of the framed artwork, but they are still in the hall.  The children were quite pleased that the portraits were being displayed.  I was happy to reclaim the kitchen table and floor where the art had been.  Life was good.

BUT now, these darn portraits keep scaring me to death!  Out of the corner of my eye, I will see a tall person.  I start to panic as I turn my head and feel silly when I see them, up there, smirking at me and my stupidity. 

Yet, it keeps happening. 
I am taking Molly out to go to the bathroom and I see this:

I am heading to the launry room and I see this:












I know I should be used to them by now, but at night, when all the lights are out, and David is out of town, and the kids are in bed, and I catch a glimpse of them, well. . . 
 I guess I am just going to have to get over it or move them. 
My heart can't take it.