At some point, my son started to draw. It's a developmental progression, of course, and small marks on the wall tend to progress to more organized efforts such as architecture. When we pick up Zane from daycare, he usually has a picture for us. I always ask the boy "What is it?" or "What did you draw today?" I want to make very sure that I am holding said picture in the correct orientation and commenting on the right thing. I've been chastised for mistaking a picture of his daddy for a tree on more than one occasion.
Here is the first unsolicited official picture that Zane identified as his mother. I like the organization of squiggly lines into some sort of circular form. There is what looks to be an eye in the center of that maelstrom, and in January of 2012, this was an accurate description of me. It was indeed a tumultuous time, and my son was channeling Early Picasso.
This is the next unsolicited picture of me that Zane officially identified as "Mom in a Tornado", drawn sometime in 2012. I now have a head and a body with feet. My outfit appears to be some sort of tent. I either have no arms or I have one arm wiping my brow, I can't tell. I can see two clearly identifiable eyes, but no mouth or ears. I may or may not be wearing makeup, and I may have dyed my hair blonde. Still, this effort shows good growth in fine motor skills.
It was therefore with interest that I asked Zane to draw another picture of his mama. What colorful impressions would Zane put on paper this time? This is what I got:
On the one hand, I appear to be skinny. On the other, I have no boobs and I appear to have lost an eye. I'm smiling, missing eye and all. I do have a nose, and I do have tiny T-Rex arms, but no hands. I'm concerned that my legs seem to meld into a single appendage that looks suspiciously like a cloven hoof, because I'm not really sure what the heck that means.
