My Five Year Old Self
This is a picture I drew of myself when I was, I think, about five.
Clearly I was not destined to become an artist. At least I have a smile on my face and have not drawn myself punching my little brother.
When I was a kid I played outside all the time. I day dreamed. My mother could barely get me to brush my hair because I simply didn’t care. I did care about the fort in our backyard, playing hide and seek and wall ball, and reading books.
I was probably forced to draw this picture of myself but, alas, I still have it and I’m glad I do.
Even if I have mitten hands.
