"Mommy, I draw!"

My Sweet Sugar Monkey, 


It was a warm evening. The sun was shining into the studio in the backyard. The studio side door was open, and the ivy that usually grows up the door was now laying beautiful and emerald against the dark wood of the flooring. 


You were completely naked; your face was filthy and your hands were colored with various pastel colors. Acoustic music was playing on a laptop (Gregory Alan Isakov, the music that played when you came into this world) and you were taking turns hopping, spinning, dancing and making little pastel chalk marks on a canvas Erin had propped up against the door frame.


You were too busy with this routine to give me little more than a few big smiles. Then you hopped several times in a row, rushed to the canvas to add a bitty purple line, and then smiled up at us and spoke your first real sentence: 


"Mommy, I draw!"  


We cheered and did a little dance around the room, which you loved, but after than you went right back to single syllable words:: "shoe" "eye" "sick" etc. 


It's beautiful and poetic: Mommy, I draw. 


I love you, 
Dad