There are many artists in Wesley's gene pool. Grandpa can draw anything and drew, illustrated or lettered most of my school projects, Uncle Chris runs a successful business where he designs, creates and sells stencils for airbrush painters, and Auntie Monica is a budding tattoo artist. Daddy is excellent at drawing cars, trucks and airplanes, which is right up Wesley's alley. But then there's me. While I'm definitely creative, the actual artistic gene high jumped right over me, leaving me with nothing more than stick figures and the same flowers and rainbows I've been drawing since the 3rd grade. Up until a couple of days ago, I thought Wes might be taking after me since he was fairly indifferent toward crayons and paper and much preferred to use the chairs of his art table for a car launch rather than sit on them. But behold, my child has some artist in him after all:
Believe it or not, I was actually standing at the sink trimming some flowers while he was coloring all over the kitchen floor. It took him saying "uh oh" about 15 times for me to look down. As Albert Einstein once said "True art is characterized by an irresistible urge in the creative artist." I think that pretty much sums up what was going on in his little mind!
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