Artistic Interpretation & Counseling Later In Life

Forgive me for not writing something more profound today. My daughter is recovering from a wicked UTI and our puppy has spread his ringworm to my son’s head. Did I mention the outside of our new house is rotting? On to funnier things…

Since I’ve unpacked the markers, my kids have been drawing much more. I collect as many as I can and display them in the hopes that my kids feel loved and validated.

It doesn’t appear to be working. The other day my son happily drew a portrait of me and himself, holding hands.

Mom! Look! I drew you a picture. It’s me and you holding hands!

What! Let me see.

This is what he drew:

Am I the one with hair?

No, you’re the one without hair.

Boy Q, I’m bald!

He giggled and promptly sat down on the floor to give me hair. Three strands.

Wait, why are we so sad?!

What do you mean, mom?

Well, look it!” I held the drawing up by my face and frowned like the drawing of me.

Okay, okay, next time I’ll draw you smiling.

Now, in the interim I had time to analyze his drawing. Was he unhappy? Why we were all frowning?! I remembered reading the Superhero ABC book with him repeatedly as a baby. Once when he was probably about two and a half, we got to “Y, the Yellow Yeller, who yells at you,” and Boy Q exclaimed, “Look, Mom! It’s you!” 

I wondered if his perception of us as sad people? What with the ringworm lately, it’s no wonder. 

He came back mere minutes later with an altered portrait:

That’s awesome! I’m so happy now! Wait. Why are you still sad?!

Mo-ooom. I’m just…that’s just…

Just because you’re frowning doesn’t mean you’re sad?

Yeah!”

Fine.”

Ah, well. At least I have more hair this time.

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