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Portrait Artists

"STOP! Be Still! Look at me! I SAID LOOK AT ME!"  You will appreciate the irony in that statement, I'm sure. 

My children have decided that they are portrait artists.  The past week, both El Hubbo and I have had numerous interuptions to our daily routines wherein the offspring have shouted the aforementioned statement. 

They chase us about with a legal size notepad, pencil or pen at the ready.  They stop, crouch intently over their project, and shout instructions at us.  It is a strange thing to have your four-year-old say, "Let me see your eyes."  Then have to sit patiently while she stares and squints at you with a slightly furrowed brow.  I've been waiting for Jake to hold up his thumb and close one eye to get a better measured view.

At long last, you are presented with the little Michelangelo Martinez masterpiece and informed that your office will serve quite nicely as a display room for their talents.  I think how lovely it will be to display my children's lovingly crafted artwork on my office door, and then I see this:



There is much I find disturbing - the Pippy Longstocking pigtails may be a good place to start.  The different-sized eyes and nose that looks like I went a couple rounds with Mike Tyson scare me.  The razor sharp teeth seem a little frightening as well. 

El Hubbo made out slightly better - but tell me those aren't the eyes of a crazy person?  I think Frankenstein grew a beard:



And, then there are the self-portraits:




I don't think we'll have to save money for art school. 



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