It's called 'art', mister

Oddly enough, on the same week I was having a conversation about how much I hate modern art, and am not a huge fan of impressionism, the Fruit of My Loins decides to emulate Picasso.

She's reached that age that the child development experts tell us she's developing the motor acuity and visual acumen to the point that she can draw actual things. Things that resemble something besides random scribbles or dots. Things like 'Daddy'. That's right. That beautiful work of art you see is me. See, that's my hat on top, and my eyes are plainly obvious. Those little circles next to my hat? Those are my ears. I know because I asked. Why am I frowning? 'Because you need to go the store and buy Diet Coke.' Damn, my daughter knows me really well.
Me: And who's that one?
Critter: That's Auntie

Me: Really? What's that line up there at the top?

Critter: That's her hair.

Notice that she's got bigger ears than me, but no hat. She's also quite short, which is very true to life. I'm telling you this kid's a genius.

Me: Who's that with Auntie?
Critter: Mommy!

Me: The similarity is astonishing. I don't know why I didn't see it immediately. But why is Mommy turned around like that?

Critter: Auntie's lying down. She's tired.

Me: A bad hair day will do that to you.
Me: Can you draw a picture of yourself?
Critter: OK - there.

Me: Oh, that's very pretty. But why is your mouth sliding off your face like that?

Critter: I drew my inspiration from Salvador Dali, I call it La Persistence de la Critter. It symbolizes my disappointment with the cognitive develpment aids you and Mommy have provided. Any fool could see that. Now get me some more juice in this here sippy-cup, if you please.

No more 'Sesame Street goes to the Met' for that kid.