My kids are a constant source of amazement to me. My newest fascination is the passion Bobby suddenly has for drawing. The kid goes through stacks of paper, sketching elaborate robots, dinosaurs, monsters and hot rods. Just months ago, in his preschool class, he was often forced to sit down to do the art projects. Now, I can't get him to play outside because he's too busy working on his latest 'book' of drawings.
Naturally, this poses a tiny problem with the vast amount of paper scattered about. As if it's not bad enough that I'm a writer and my office can barely contain my notes, outlines, drafts and files. It seems Mr. Bobby needs his own office at the rate he's going.
This drawing above is a few weeks old, but I marvel at it every time I find it in the stacks of paper shoved under the coffee table, in boxes or piled high on his desk in the playroom. How many of these drawings will disappear under the chaos of the boys' destruction? To me, this image is like poetry, like a record of Bobby's sudden learning curve in the art of creating.
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