My mother was an artist when she was younger. For years I had a sculpture she made in high school, I remember paintings she use to do, and in the ’70s she use to airbrush Harley gas tanks (yes, for motorcycles. yes, my mother). Her artistry rubbed off on me, albeit my medium of choice is oils. I love the way I can mix the colors on the canvas and create whatever’s in mind. I am unsurprised that Claire’s got the same flair. Don’t get me wrong her Mama’s got some, too, but Claire’s beginning young. Yeah, I know, all kids play with crayons and such, but there’s something a bit different with how Claire does her art. Something more familiar like watching yourself from outside your body far far ago.

Last week we were in my classroom, and Claire drew across my entire board as high as she could reach. She then turned to me and asked how to spell her friend Eli’s name. I told her, and she proceeded to write "Claire" and then "Eli". I even love the little stick man in between the two. This amazes me. She’s three, folks. I don’t remember doing quite this well in ’77.