on Amoebae, Cats and Picasso

Work: done.
Children: occupying themselves.
Significant other: reality tv.
Me: good book.
Beer? No, too early.

Thus the scene is set. All is well. My two daughters of 8 and 4 are suspiciously quiet. But, as usual, this seemingly unbreakable blissful stasis is short lived.

Enter my youngest, proudly brandishing a page of sorts to present to me.

4yo: “Daddy look what I drawed!”

I look.

brain: holy crap it’s a blob.

Me: “Wow sweetie that’s AMA-zing.”

4yo: “I made it for you and for mommy and you can have it and she can ha…”

brain: don’t ask her what it is. whatever you do, don’t ask her what it is! the disappointment…

4yo: “… and you can show Auntie Marlene and I made it all by myself.”

Me: “Unbelievable. You’re my own little Picasso.”

4yo: “What’s pe-ca-so.”

brain: good. distract her. buy some time..
Me: “Picasso was an artist. He drew and he painted and now his paintings are worth millions.”

The confused look I’m getting tells me she’s not quite understanding.

brain: ok. you can do this. it’s not a blob. she won’t draw a blob. maybe it’s an amoeba? no. can’t be. she won’t have a clue what an amoeba is until, well, how old was I when I learned about amoebas? probably fourteen? fifteen? no, concentrate, besides amoebas don’t have eyes…what are those funny pointy things?

4yo: “Do you like it?”

…whatever it is..
Me: “I love it!”

..hear that? that’s the sound of the hole you’re digging.

4yo: “You must put it up on your cupboard.”

…along with blobs one through twenty…

Me: “Of course my love. I have my own little gallery going on upstairs and I love it.”

…beaming smile, good let it end there. she doesn’t have to know..

4yo: “what’s your favourite thing about it?”


Me: “Uhm, let me see. I like the colours. You know what? I think it needs a name. All artists name their pictures. If I made a picture of mommy over there now I’d call it ‘mommy on the couch’. Picasso named his paintings too. What are you going to name it”


4yo: “I don’t know. You name it.”

Me: “I’m sorry hun. you HAVE to name it. It’s the rule. I’m not allowed to.”

..oh for the love of…

4yo: “Kiki sleeping.”

…that’s a cat?!…

Me: “Kiki Sleeping! The masterpiece has been named!”

and shebam! mission accomplished!

Me: “Thank you so much hunny. Leave it with me and it’ll go up today still. Now go play.”

My little artist incumbent skips away. I sigh my sigh of relief. The sidelong glance from Wifey-poo tells me she knows what’s just happened.