Preschool Picasso

My daughter is passionate about art. Her sketches line her room and wallpaper our refrigerator. She dabbles in many mediums- finger paint, Crayola, glitter pen, marker, Play Doh and occasionally Moon Sand.

I am frequently the subject of her new found passion. My likeness has been captured over and over. She always highlights my strengths, playing up my string hair and stick fingers. Often, I am found to be wearing some sort of triangle and box like shoes in her art. Curiously, hubby always seems to don the same triangle and sometimes seems to be lacking feet.

“Interpretive art,” hubby explains.

“Born way before her time,” pipes Granny.

“Wow! Five fingers,” says her preschool teacher.

No matter what your review of her current masterpiece, one thing is for sure. There will be another and another after that. She paints with reckless abandon, impertinent to current opinion and inspired by her own carefree demeanor.

I envision her with her beret and pallet, thoughtfully pondering her subject matter in the sandbox.

After all, Picasso was 4 once, too, right? Like to see his mommy’s refrigerator.