Artistry

Almost exactly one year ago on the "My Wife Is Preggers" blog, I referenced a documentary called "My Kid Could Paint That." It's about a supposed child prodigy painter whose work has sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars. The movie tries to be unbiased, but it becomes obvious that the father is behind the art, and the mother is either clueless or pretending to be clueless. It's gross.

So one year later, Lyla came home from school with the very first artistic project of her life. Now, I'm not counting the many priceless works she has reproduced in her pants: Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and Jackson Pollock's entire collection, among others. Today her teachers taped some paper leaves to a tray, squirted in some finger paint, and took cover.

Proud dad that I am, I figure scanning them and putting them on the internet is the 21st century version of magnetizing them to the refrigerator.


My kid really did paint those. And they're not for sale.