Bragging on my kids, Part Eleventy-Million: Fireflies, Squashies, and a Bug’s POV

My kids are enjoying their last day of school today, or at least enjoying that it is the last day, barring the Promotion Ceremony tomorrow morning.*

Owl RightAs you might expect, veritable forests of dead, pulped, ironed trees have been unloaded from both backpacks this week.  Each kid also came home with a Sunny-sized art portfolio and bags of dubious pottery, including a uniquely painted owl (see left) and a probable-turtle that only a mother could identify appreciate.**

I’ve shared some of my favorite Wesson Kid artwork throughout this school year and y’all aren’t off the hook yet.

Since roughly Christmas, Janie has been saying the word pastels in the same tone she uses for American Girl merchandise.  I think  I figured out why:


And also why she keeps asking me to play Owl City’s Fireflies on repeat in the car.

The kids studied George Rodrigue this semester, and while Jane’s Green Dog variation was pretty good, I’ve been enjoying her Blue Guitar Period:

Blues Guitar

Seriously—this guy has been showing up everywhere, flower, whammy bar and all.

Sunny, on the other hand, has been working on perspective.  This one is from a project asking student to look at things “From a Bug’s Point of View”:

Bugs Life

She says this is a self-portrait, and that the girl is standing on a glass coffee table to get away from the bug. But the face isn’t expressing  screaming terror or the heaving squickies—although it’s true she doesn’t look particularly happy—and the hair isn’t made of springs, so I’m thinking it isn’t, really.  Regardless, I think it’s pretty good for a six-year old—look at the hand placement!

She did bring home one lovely self-portrait, though, that befits my curly little artist:

My Artist

That, ladies and gentlemen, is my girl.


*And the brief, but intense, pre-Promotion Ceremony ritual of explaining to my children why they can’t wear tank tops and flip-flops.  Dresses and shoes and brushed hair and teeth, thank you very much, under imminent threat of a post-Promotional Ceremony Cleaning of the Play Room.

**I shall call him Squashie and he shall be mine and live in my writing place and he shall be my Squashie.



15 thoughts on “Bragging on my kids, Part Eleventy-Million: Fireflies, Squashies, and a Bug’s POV

  1. Hey, this artwork is GOOD! Honestly. Way better than anything I could produce myself. And I have a few decades on your kids. Thanks for sharing!

    • Steps are being taken to frame all of them for posterity, Downith!

      Mine, too–though the last one comes close, and I love my Squashie, too.

  2. Your children are seriously talented! (Although, I have to admit, I was expecting some sort of space ship, rather than a glowing jar.) I know you can’t save everything, but a few special pieces will provide memories for years to come. (I was just teasing my sister about one of her ceramic pieces about a month ago!)
    Several years ago, the ‘art committee’ here had a display of children’s art. My nephew drew a picture for it. When the display came down, I had it matted and framed to give him as a gift. He’ll be a sophomore in college next year, and I think he still has the picture.

    • With my kids, spaceships would be the norm, but they’ve never seen the series—we’re woefully behind in their education! But they do love Leverage, so . . .

  3. Dang, they’re good!

    Janie has got some serious art skill going on. You can see her passion right there on the page.

    Sunny is incredibly talented, too, but it is her comic sensibility that makes her work so appealing.

    Please tell me your art gallery extends beyond the fridge.

    • I’ll pass on the compliments, Mike! 🙂

      Janie has some chops, but she’s into scriptwriting and shooting movies with our ancient camera at the moment, but that’s a visual medium, so there you go!

      During the Promotion Ceremony yesterday, Sunny’s kindergarten teacher said something about each of her students. For Sunny, she said, “Whenever I have to ask her to focus in class, she always holds up a new picture of her sister, or her mother, or me, or princesses. So. Many. Princesses. She’s going to be an artist someday!”

      And, yes, beyond the fridge, down the hall, into the living room . . .

  4. There’s some real talent, here. I’d hang that blue guitar on the wall (no, seriously). And the perspective? Perfect. Definitely felt like a bug looking up through a glass coffee table.

      • Maybe even look into getting a file cabinet just for her artwork. I grew up with someone this talented, y’know. I’m glad these kidlets landed in your lap; they’ll get the encouragement and support they need and deserve.

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