I can only save so many little scraps of paper. I wish I could save them all. I wish, actually, that he wouldn't draw on little scraps of paper at all but use the primary composition notebook decorated and designated as his journal (my one effort at making him too much like me, I admit freely and without shame). But, no. He can't be boxed in by the constraints of a bound notebook. When he has an idea, he must scribble it immediately, on whatever medium is nearest--including the whiteboard where we write grocery lists and the little Melissa & Doug easel slate board. I can't save those masterpieces at all except to take pictures. Actually, he prefers the whiteboard and slate because he can so easily erase that which does not fit his vision. I worry sometimes about his erasing habit and gently remind him, "Don't worry about perfection; nothing is perfect," especially when he expresses frustration before erasing--with his fingers or the felt brick that looks transported directly from my elementary classrooms. Without pausing for anguish or reflection he just says, "It's not very...as I planned it to be," and continues.
He draws mostly at the kitchen table, sometimes in the car and so we keep a tote bag of spiral notebooks and art supplies there next to his seat. Sometimes, he begins drawing the moment he wakes, his eyes barely open against the yellow kitchen light. More often it happens mid-morning, after breakfast, after Scooby Doo or Rescue Bots, before our morning walk as a way to pass the time while we clean breakfast dishes and get ready to leave the house. Sometimes, he does not pick up a pencil (or pen, crayon, marker, chalk--he does not seem particular, really) until the evening in that quiet space of time Wolfman designates for art and music and conversation.
What does he draw? I've mentioned his "weather reports" taped to my walls. He draws maps. Lots of maps and mazes. He draws intricate designs for implements and tools, "for help," based on things he's seen out in the world, like the lifts used to stack high shelves at home improvement stores. (Often, I have not even realized these objects and machines have made such an impression on him until they show up on his paper, a version of them drawn by his hand.) He drew elaborate plans for Halloween costumes in September and October (at one point, his cardboard and paper mâché Hulk Buster armor half-way complete, he decided he wanted to be "No Noggin," from Curious George's Halloween Boofest, and Wolfman gamely discussed with him practical ways to accomplish the headless effect while trick-or-treating, all of which Mads drew). In one of those quiet morning art sessions, he set down to the slate board and without saying a word began drawing something that Wolfman pointed out upon completion looked like a rune casting circle, spookily so.
What I collect and save of his drawings are not family portraits or landscapes of our homes and trees and flowers with a grinning sunshine overhead, no horses or dogs or mermaids, none of the things I drew as a child. I collect what appears to be Pollockian blue prints, and I awe at this mind.
 |
| On the Seaboard caboose in pjs made by Granmommie |
 |
| NCMA |
 |
| selfie! |
 |
DJ's Berry Pumpkin Patch |
 |
| Dance Party at the Cary Arts Center |
About Mads, 5 Years & 3 Months Old:
- Mads sometimes requests that I read books backwards, particularly the ones we've read to memorization, and when I do, he belly laughs.
- At Tinkergarten, when Mads would not focus on the class activities because he was too intent on spraying things with the class-provided spray bottles I told him, "Martigan, I'm feeling a little exasperated about the water botle. Do you care?" He answered honestly and without malice, "No," and so what could I do but let it go.
- Mads gets bored quickly with the little kindergarten workbooks we sometimes use and will begin creating his own lessons. For example, on a shape-recognition page in which he is meant to trace all the diamonds, he does just that but alternating between his left and right hands, then using both hands at once, practicing his ambidextrousness and coordination.
- Mads says, "When I get too scared, by heart turns into a bat."
- He refers to honey as "bee vomit" (accurate, if crude) and requests a "butter and bee vomit" sandwich daily.
- Lately at bed time when I ask what or who he wishes to be before singing our version of Que Sera Sera instead of Batman or Flash, his old stand-bys ("will I be Batman, will I be cool?"), Mads requests "the lover," and then crawls into my lap for snuggles while I sing/ruminate about his future and all the hugs and kisses he will get and give.
- When he overhears an innocuous cuss word in conversation between his dad and granmommie, Mads interjects, "Oh yeah, I know a lot of badass words."
- In October, Mads attended his first yoga class and now refers to himself as a yogi and, if we ask, he'll lead Wolfman and me in morning sun salutations.
- With a little organizational help from his dad, Mads created a board game called, "Something's Near," the object of which is to move through a frightening land filled with ghosts, zombies, a banshee and other dread creatures to do battle at a castle with either a giant spider
- Mads favorite shows/movies lately: Power Rangers (especially Mighty Morphin and Ninja Steel), Scooby Doo (especially Aloha Scooby Doo), Transformers: Rescue Bots, Goosebumps (especially Night of the Living Dummy)
- Mads favorite books lately: Bruce Hale & Guy Francis' Clark the Shark books, Roger Hargreaves' Mr. Men & Little Miss books, Sick Simon by Dan Krall, anything we can find by Ben Hatke
