Wednesday, June 13, 2012

art and religion

Today's pic:

l3. Art

Killer T-Rex, Vol. 1

For those of you lowly, unsophisticated folk who don't immediately recognize his work,
THIS... is a Miles original. 

I will wait for you to settle down.

Miles is my five year-old nephew, and he painted this masterpiece with his own little hand, seen here dangling in midair.  Notice the delicate, artful grace of his fingers in contrast to the primal, jagged lines of the T-Rex.  BRILLIANT!

Seriously though, is this not a freaking awesome T-Rex??  I think it is.  He's a pretty awesome little dude.  Estie and I hung out with him today at his casa while his parents were at work (where I also work, when I'm not hanging out with small children).  We did lots of fun and exciting things, like sword fighting, gun fighting, laser fighting and tiger fighting.  During breaks we did some dinosaur fighting to relax.  Miles is, how do I say this... on crack.  Have you hung out with a small boy lately?  They have more violent, spastic energy than a rabid squirrel on Red Bull.  It's a little bit frightening.  Usually I manage his mania with frequent trips outdoors, where we walk or bike halfway to the park before he announces he's too hot and would like some milk.  But because of the air quality right now (see yesterday's post about my city being on fire) we were relegated to indoor play.  It's okay though, we had fun.  He's really, really fascinated with the baby, which is cute, and she in turn is really, really content to sit completely still and watch him bounce off the walls like psychotic hummingbird while she gives him the one-eyebrow-up, "you're retarded, and I like it" look.  It's a fair trade.  Plus, Miles lets me play dress up, which Annie is too old for but I still really, really enjoy...

My favorite part of the whole day, though, was watching Miles sing along to a CD he brought home from vacation bible school, a.k.a. free daycare. The song has hand motions to go along with the lyrics, and Miles is very serious about the whole performance.  After the fourth or fifth run-through of his favorite number, he asked me if I know the difference between God and Jesus.  I said why don't you tell me.

"Jesus has a bunch of holes in his shirt, and God doesn't." 



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