I am married to a very artistic man. In lots of ways. He had two or three years of piano lessons and plays beautifully. I, on the other hand, had about 12 years of piano lessons and struggle to play the hymns for the Sunday School.
Joe had an art scholarship for college. He can draw, paint, carve, and mold; and the things he makes look how they are supposed to. I can not do this.
My kids have all inherited Joe's artistic talent. Some to a greater, some to a lesser extent. When they were young, I did my best to draw little pictures for them and it was good enough. As they have grown older, my artistic inability has been the source of many good laughs.
Sometimes the younger ones still want me to draw something for them. More often than not I send them to one of my more talented children. But occasionally I make the attempt. Often someone more artistic than I will come in, and "catch" me in the act. Which inevitable ends up with my work of art becoming the brunt of hoots and hollers and scathing criticisms. But, since I am well aware of my lack of talent, I just laugh along with them. The things I draw are usually pretty funny.
Today, the kids were playing playdough. In accordance with their varying talents, they were fashioning cookies and pizzas, snakes with forked tongues, a couch complete with a male and female couple sitting comfortable upon it, and many other realistic and fun things.
At one point in the afternoon, my two year old, Stella, needed a distraction from some mischief. Since she was carrying around a ball of playdough, I asked my very artistically inclined son, Matt, to make a dolly for her with the dough.
After shaping the clay a for a few minutes, he asserted that the dough was not the correct consistency to make a dolly. Instead, he had made the head of the Green Goblin of Spiderman fame. Yes, it was a very good replica of the Green Goblin.
Now Stella wanted her clay in a dolly, not the Green Goblin. So Matt handed the clay to me upon which to work my magic. Hehe.
OK. A ball for a head, an oval for the torso, and little tubes for arms and legs. I can do this. No problem. And I did. I really thought, "This is pretty good. This time no one is going to laugh at me." I handed Stella her "dolly" and had her show Matt. She proceeded to show him my work of art. As she handed it to him she said in her little two year old voice, "Here Matt. My monster."