As I walk through the halls that embrace the Kindergarten and First Grade classrooms, I can’t help but stop and smile as I admire the artistic masterpieces pasted to them.
You can really get a good idea about a child’s imagination and often his or her experiences through their artwork. It’s like a window to their world and often to their soul.
I spotted rainbows, puppy dogs, and friends at play with a backdrop of gigantic smiling suns, snow-capped mountains, and capital M birds.
I saw flowers, dragonflies, and an animal-laden scene adorned with that famous anti-pollution message, “Dont Palute”.
The adorableness is almost cliché.
Then there’s our daughter. Granted, she has yet to start Kindergarten being only three years old, but it’s quite apparent that we’re going to get phone calls. Or at least some really strange questions come Parent-Teacher day.
Because I work from home, I’m often besieged by children who believe the things they buy and the things they eat just magically appear. The interruptions are constant when Heather is out and about so I often try to get them involved in some mental work as a distraction.
When “pretend daddy’s invisible” didn’t work, I asked our daughter if she could sit quietly and draw Daddy a pretty picture.
I was hoping for something girlish. Something that encompassed everything three-year old girl’s liked. Something that had wings, a tail, or fur. Something pink or maybe purple.
Instead, I was handed this:
Me: “Oh! Oh my. Honey, that’s…frighteningly beautiful.”
Kamryn: “Yeah. I drew it.”
Me: “I know you did…….what is it?”
Kamryn: “It’s a zombie.”
On one hand, I’m all, “That’s my girl!” And on the other, I’m all, “What have I done?”
Always wanting to be the supportive Dad I remarked how wonderfully accurate the empty cavernous eye sockets looked and how on-target she was with the Zombie hunchback and stitched smile.
But then I noticed the little tuft of something in the zombie’s belly area. Fresh off her phase of drawing pubic blobs, I worried that I was being presented with Zombie porn.
Fortunately, I wasn’t. It was just the creature’s belly button.
And this begs the question:
What does it say about your life when you’re relieved to know that you’re looking at fuzzy Zombie navels?
Well, I’ll tell you. At least in my case?
It means your life is awesome.