I am really hoping that art doesn't imitate life, at least not too much.

You know, there are times when I wish that I didn't have children during the Paleolithic era, so that I could have blogged about their daily nonsense.  (Blogging wasn't around then. although there have been some questionable artifacts unearthed so future studies could argue otherwise. )  However, despite my hesitation to break this fact to you already exhausted parents, I must mention that after children, many times grandchildren appear to fill the void that is pretty much nicely filled already with things like vacation trips, sleeping late, and a much lower food budget.

And yet, it is true what they've told you.  Grandchildren are the bestest children in the world - all the joy, none of the work.  Who doesn't love ANYTHING that gives nothing but joy and requires no work, right?  But one thing that doesn't change, however, is the honesty that surrounds kids, that unfiltered in your face honesty that usually takes you down a notch or more than a few notches and makes you realize that you are not at all that you thought you were, and also?

(1) You do not look like that person that stares back at you in the mirror anymore. 

My grandson is enjoying a little dabble in the arts.  He agreed to do a portrait of me if I gave him a photograph.  I decided to give him a photo depicting Sir Dave and I.

And he presented me with this brilliant interpretation:

Ok, obviously  (2) I am going to keep a closer eye on Dave.  That guy looks pretty damned shifty if you ask me, with those evil looking eyebrows and that know-it-all-grin.  You know, it's true what they say about children's honesty -  "from the mouth of babes" or in this case "through the shrewd eyes of future detectives."  On the upside, I no longer have to wonder where all that hair in the bathtub is coming from.


(3) This masterpiece obviously suggests that I am retaining fluid.  Or perhaps Triscuits are not a part of a healthy weight loss plan after all.  Although it is likely that I have Down Syndrome and I am color blind.  (I would have sworn that my hair is brown.)  Damn you Loreal Color Coding!


So, I'll end this post  (have to get to the gym and to my doctor's appointment) by saying to all those teachers out there, the ones that are in charge of the younger ones, the ones that are old enough to draw and to write.  Yes, you teachers who give out assignments designed to let you in on all the dirty secrets that families have (because after mountains of laundry you simply do not have time to wash the secrets.) These assignments include but are not limited to (1) keeping a journal that has to be passed in everyday for the teachers evening reading pleasure, (2) assigning the kids the task of drawing a picture of  what they did on the weekend, or "life at your house" drawings or (3) "day in the life " pictures and video.  To all these teachers I want you to know something very very important.


I do not have a moon face.  I'm not kidding.