When I first saw her drawing, I had no context. And I’ll admit that my imagination went THERE. I mean, I flashed forward to my preschooler’s future and pictured some form of American Psycho playing out. How would I sit in the courtroom and be supportive of my daughter when she had committed the atrocity hand-drawn on this white-out board? I think I may have even practiced appropriately contrite, yet loving faces for the courtroom cameras.
Because don’t you see that this is depicting one person running a spear through another person’s body? And isn’t it clear that just prior to the spearing, somehow the brain of The Speared has popped out and fallen to the floor? But I played it cool when I asked my daughter what she had drawn.
“Honey? What did you draw for Mommy?” I expected a gory tale fueled by recent news events overheard on NPR.
“Momma! You know what it is!” Umm. No, honey, I don’t. Please tell me. “Momma! It’s when my soccer ball was lost and I cried and you came over and hugged me! Momma! You remember!” Her whining shout explained it all so clearly. But I still didn’t see it.
I looked again. Okay, I guess the brain could be a soccer ball. And sure, instead of horrified shrieking, I suppose the subjects could be crying, or consoling. And yes, the spear could definitely be arms reaching out to hold the cryer. Although, I still didn’t know what the dotted line around my eyes was meant to be. And what about the blood gushing out of my head? What is that?
“Momma! It’s your sunglasses and ponytail! You know!”
Well, I guess now I know.