They say life imitates art.
This has never been more true at my house than today.
Earlier today as I was going about my usual business of motherhood, homeschool teacher, part-time employee @ Michael's office, chaffeur, housekeeper, cook, piano teacher, and refining my skills of walking on water, I happened upon a drawing my oldest child had done.
This kid LOVES art.
REALLY loves it. For Christmas she got new blank canvases to paint and pretty much the best way to get her excited about schoolwork and lessons is to find some way to connect it to drawing or painting or sculpting or...you get it.
Anyway, this is the picture she had most recently sketched:
Hmm. It looks somewhat familiar to THIS, doesn't it?
Or is it just my imagination that they are eerily alike?
In case you can't see it well, my child has portrayed her baby sister as the miniature (and somewhat less hairy) version of Godzilla. She appears to be terrorizing the natives and in general leaving a path of destruction and gnashing of teeth in her wake. She looks pretty intimidating, I must say, and the helicopter she's holding effortlessly in one hand really drives the point home that she is powerful. She's standing on top of a building as if it's a step stool and the tiny little people below are running for their lives through the city streets.
Being home schooled lends itself to lots of quality time together. And sometimes some not so quality time together. Olivia has witnessed more than her fair share of our more, um, "intense" moments with our determined three-year-old. This is why she and I rush early in the morning to do a few subjects before King Kong, I mean, Leighanne, emerges from her bed.
Some days she can be totally, 100% delightful! She's got a great sense of humor and nobody can hold a candle to her cute booty shake dance she does (which is STILL sporting red dry erase marker images thanks to her other sister). But some days? Well, some days I am quite frankly concerned that she might actually end up in prison by age 7. But talk about putting a mirror in front of yourself. Sadly, she gets it honestly, I'm afraid. I wasn't exactly a piece of cake myself as a kid. There is no physical evidence today to prove this story, but I MAY have lost my temper at age 3 and pushed over an entire Christmas tree with one determined shove. But I digress...
But there may be another reason God gave us this precious kid. Maybe it was just so I would appreciate Hollywood more. Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife...the three-year-old's comin'.
(In case you missed it, I blogged about last week's little run in with desitin...you can catch up here: http://webberstories.blogspot.com/2012/01/designing-with-desitin.html )