{I'm a day late, but I still wanted to link-up with Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary's Just Write series. Better late than never, right?}
It was day three of Baby Girl's stomach bug. She had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and because of this, threw three massive tantrums in a row during the course of breakfast. By 9:30, she was wiped. So much so, that she laid down and fell asleep in the middle of the family room.
I asked my Little Man if he wanted to color beside me while I worked so that he wouldn't disturb his little sister's much-needed nap. He nodded enthusiastically, asking for the coloring book that his Grandma had given him the week before. "The one that teaches you how to draw, Mommy."
I set him up in the seat next to me and we both dove into our work. He was studying the lines so carefully as he moved his marker over the white paper. I love how he draws grass on most all the pictures he colors. And the way he draws faces on his stick people is so incredibly cute. Big holes for eyes and a nose, then a huge line of a smile that goes all the way from one ear to the other.
Makes me wonder what my drawings of people looked like from when I was his age.
The only one I remember is a dinner plate that I drew on at preschool for my mom and brought home as a Mother's Day gift. It was a big circle of a head and the arms came right out of the sides of the head.
My son is obviously much more of a gifted artist than I was at that age.
I've always had a fascination with art and it warms my heart to see my son so happy as he colors, draws, or paints. He makes me so proud.
I looked over at him drawing this picture of a giant man and said, "You're a very good drawler, bud." {I know there's no "L", I just remember how I used to say it that way when I was young. I was speaking his language.}
"Am I like an artist?" he asked, a serious tone to his voice.
"You sure are," I replied.
"I'm your little artist," he declared.
My creative heart skipped a beat. And smiled with pride.
