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The Artist

Simon is a superlative child. In his class, he’s one of the three best readers (because he’s bright, interested, and older than most, not because he’s a genius), two best mathematicians, and two fastest runners. Also? He’s the worst artist by a comfortable margin. Mercy rules prevent me from quantifying how large a margin.

How bad of an artist is he? Let me count the ways. Actually, I’m going to let Simon do it. He came home from school today with his number book, which dedicated a single page to numerals from one to ten. Here’s what Simon drew for each:

  1. Dog, if you can call it that.
  2. Basketballs, which are more in his artistic wheelhouse.
  3. Marbles, see item above.
  4. Basketballs, sticking with what works.
  5. Flowers, helpfully labeled so as to prevent confusion with lollipops, which is what they sort of look like.
  6. Basketballs, back to his comfort zone.
  7. Basketballs, why mess with success?
  8. Basketballs, he’s in the zone, baby!
  9. Do I have to tell you?
  10. Yup, again.

I laughed so hard at this that my sides hurt. When I showed Matt, tears rolled down his cheeks. I’m not sure if it was the artistic ineptitude or the strategy deployed to circumvent it that was funnier. Either way, it gave us the best laugh of the day.

One Response to “The Artist”

  1. blg says:


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