I have been packing fresh berries as a school snack for Little Boy, since he now enjoys berries — blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries (yes, I did get that trivia email that strawberries are not botanically berries, but the more I know, the less I care).
And one day, because I was feeling uber-mommy, I sketched a picture of a lion on the tin foil that I wrap over the Tupperware (because if I can barely open the Tupperware, there’s little hope for him).
My lousy drawings on the fruit container were a hit with Little Boy, so they persist: Snakes, spiders, a campfire, Misty May-Treanor. Today I tried a cow. I got the face alright, but botched the body, so I turned it into a cow on the moon:
Alien Cow
Since Little Boy can no longer wait until school to see my artistic efforts, he asked to see it before we left home.
“Oooo,” he said. “Cow.”
“An alien cow,” I clarified. “See? He’s on the moon.”
“Oooo, alien cow! I love alien cow!” he said happily.
Then, “Mommy, tomorrow I want you to draw a lion eating a … a… a…”
“Pizza?” I suggested.
“No, a zebra!” Little Boy got that faraway look in his eyes. “A big lion eating a little baby zebra, and… and… he just eats that little baby zebra up!”
Okay, I know that Little Boy watches too many nature documentaries, but, well, he watches too many nature documentaries. I can just imagine him whipping out his fruit cup, smiling at Mommy’s picture of a lion devouring a baby zebra, and then happily eating his raspberries.
Question that runs through my mind a lot these days: Is it cute, or is it a harbinger of psychopathy?
