Someone send a search and rescue party

I'm located somewhere in the pit that is my sewing room. Still plugging away and almost done but amazed at the million and one teensy little things that need to have a home assigned. The dusting isn't hard. Neither is vacuuming up about 5 months worth of thread snips. No, it's finding a spot to house the tons of "repurpose this" projects, the fabric assigned to a project but not yet being worked on and the growing supply of notions for which I need to eventually work out a storage solution. Finding hidden legos, matchbox cars and dollies in random corners is the bonus gift from my kids. Oh well, maybe I'll get brave and post some pictures after I'm done.

I've shown you artwork from my 5 year old. You know, the various ways in which our home could spontaneously combust? Until a few months ago my 3 year old would scribble for a few minutes and then go on to playing with his beloved cars and garage setups. Then a few weeks ago I noticed him furiously drawing at the dining room table. Yes, that's a mint on his paper and apparently when you're three and your mouth needs a break, the safest spot for your mint is on your artwork. Who knew?




I was curious but waited until he was done and called me over. He told me this is Mr. Maricucu. I think it's pretty neat that a child who had been scribbling a few months ago is now drawing figures with appendages and facial features. Knock me over with a feather. But wait, there's more.




This, *sniff*, is yours truly. He remembered to draw momma! Granted, I'm bald and armless but I'm immortalized in artwork. Now, prepare to be astounded by his talent. For it's not just in the detail of the drawings that his genius lies. No my friends, there's another important detail.




He drew Mr. Maricucu and me to scale. First, the drawings side by side then a picture of Mr. Maricucu and I. No, I'm not sitting. He's 6'4" and I'm 5'1" (no matter what my sister says about me never stretching past 4'11"). I wore 4" heels for my wedding and still only hit his shoulders.





A little background on that picture. It was taken 9 years ago last month, about a month before our wedding. Remember when I said Mr. Maricucu was not one for birthday hoopla? When I told my mom that he really hadn't celebrated his birthday in years while living in Miami she literally gasped, pulled an extroverted-latin-woman move and said, "well we have got to throw the poor boy a party!" Poor guy didn't even see it coming but suddenly he was surprised with an insta-party.

Sometime later this week, cherry pudding cake.