Lisputania, or, He Is Definitely My Son

Our oldest, tired of meticulously copying maps of the states out of the atlas -- because he can; I don't ask for explanations any more -- decided to create his own country. Just like I did when I was a kid. The cartographer never falls far from the tree, obviously.

Tonight, One From Each

I am seriously falling behind in posting drawings here, and the kids just keep on producing them. I've got a bale scanned and another bale waiting to be scanned and I'm beginning to feel like one of those hoarders they have on TV. So I'm offering up three drawings tonight.

The first, shown above, is another Scooter comic from our oldest. This is kind of copied from Peanuts. Almost.

This one is the oldest I've got still to use. It's a portrait of our youngest on the left, by our youngest, done more than a year ago. That's me on the right, with his mom in the middle.

Then there's this contribution from our daughter: Typical.

Rata Tata Tata!

Ya gotta watch those Nazis. They'll sneak up on you.

And if I didn't know better -- I know he hasn't seen the movie -- I'd think he'd gotten the idea for this from "The Battle of Britain."

Again, I enjoy seeing these ideas come out of my kids' heads.

Cutesie Pie Dog

Once and a while one of our kids will produce one of those bits of art that you know they've copied from somewhere, rather than come up with on their own. This is one of those drawings: the inevitable doggie with the huge eyes and lolling tongue. Not that it's bad, you know. Just cliche.

Airport!

Funny thing is I remember drawing pictures like this. Right down to the ISO-9000-compliant sign that says "AIRPORT," just in case somebody forgot where they were.

The Traditional House

I've got to get this one posted before the artist becomes a teenager -- I've had this one hanging about for a very long time.

Yes, a traditional house. Four-paned windows. Chimney and such. And a goon looking out the window.

Weenie Dog

Yes, we still miss our little Moki, our weenie dog who died, well, it's two and a half years ago now. We'd like to get a new dog, but can't exactly afford what the little puppies are selling for. Don't tell us to go to the local animal shelters, because unless you want a cat (I'd love one, Michelle would file divorce proceedings) or a pit bull or a Labrador, we're just out of luck. Too bad.