Even Great Artists Have To Start Somewhere

Right after New Year's Day my husband came down with the stomach flu. My five year old had been quite sick with it for three days right before Christmas, but we thought the rest of us had dodged the bullet. No such luck.

As soon as she learned that her father was ill, Zoe ran to her art table to make him a get well card, the front of which is shown here. In case you can't tell, it is a picture of her daddy, lying in his bed (with his favorite green, blue, and red fleece blanket) and smiling while throwing up into a heart-shaped bucket. (Yes, we have a heart shaped bucket. Shut up, it was a gift). On the inside it reads, in shaky block letters that all run together: DEARDADDY IHOPEYOUR STOMACHBUG IS SHORTERTHANMINE.*

I always smile when I have the stomach bug, don't you?

Actually, I'm now the only one who hasn't had it this time around, but I'm fully expecting it to arrive at the most inconvenient time possible.

*This is almost as good as the get well card she made for him when she was three and a half and he was recuperating from major abdominal surgery: a stick figure with a band-aid sticker on the belly.