You can tell a lot about how your kids will turn out by analyzing what they draw as young children. These illustrations can be quite prophetic, in fact. Recently my niece found these drawings of mine in my mom's cedar chest. Let's examine them, shall we?
We'll begin with an easy one. I think I drew this somewhere around the age of ten and it's pretty self explanatory. My parents could clearly deduce that I was going to turn out to be the crazy cat lady, which is great if you have substandard expectations for your children.
Let's get inside my ten year old head for a moment. It appears the dream I had for my life was to dress like a hobo and clean up cat shit. And apparently wear Aunt Jemima head scarves because I knew I'd be too lazy to fix my hair. At ten years old, this was my brilliant plan for my life. Today this is, of course, a ridiculous notion. Who has time for a head scarf? I wear my hair in a pony tail.
Next we have a drawing of a really big sock and a really little person.
Normally, this would not be a red flag to a parent because there's nothing disturbing about it on the surface. But look closer.
Obviously the sock couldn't be that fucking big, in which case any parent could reasonably conclude that their kid was destined to be a liar, or at best, someone who exaggerates a LOT. Which is a liar.
And when you think about it, all writers are liars because they just sit around and make shit up all day long. What am I? A big fat liar. Next.
This next one should have clued my parents in on the fact that something just ain't right. Since I can't remember what was in my head when I made this, I can only surmise that it was one of two things.
One, these are witches boiling and dismembering babies, or two, it's an evil baby dismembering other babies while two ladies sit ring-side and clap. Neither of these bode well for little me. Furthermore, this message is clearly directed at my dad. Hey Jim, give me ice cream or I'm gonna start killin' some babies. I mean, that's a pretty grandiose threat for a five year old. I can't spell "from", but you have no idea what I'm capable of mother fucker.
This is one of my favorites. This isn't my work, but my niece's. In case you can't make it out, it says "No boys allowed, just girls, and that's final".
This may seem like an innocent warning to keep boyfolk out of the tree house, lest ye get cooties, but if you think that, you'd be wrong.
Rather, it's an obvious sign that the author has every intention of being a lesbian.
OK. That's not really true. But we've already established that I'm a big fat liar.
Here we have a depiction of a female telling this charming cowboy that she's not "enchrsted".
Most parents might think, great, she doesn't plan on being a hooker. But let's dig a little deeper.
First of all, the woman is wearing a strapless bodysuit, not unlike something you'd see in Stayin' Alive. She's also wearing entirely too much makeup and has already been knocked up. I think it's safe to say she's not married, because no guy is going to let his wife walk around like that.
And I'm not even really convinced that she's not a hooker. She may just be checking to see if he's a cop first.
What's worse, she's obviously an unfit parent seeing that her baby's about to get impaled by a cactus and she doesn't even care. I think what we have here is a textbook case of a slut playing hard to get. This is not learned behavior folks. My parents were Baptist ministers. Not really. But I obviously had an innate understanding of how to work it at the ripe old age of seven.
I don't even know where to start with this one. On one side, we have the obvious "cool kids", and on the other, I can only guess that I was making fun of retarded people.
What kind of fucking asshole does that? Especially considering that I best fit in group number two when I was a kid.
But I'm obviously celebrating the nature of these claw-footed, mentally handicapped folks with no muscle tone, and dammit, I'm ashamed. I think my mother saved this one so I'd always know what a bad person I am.
Do you have any great artwork you'd like to share? I'd really love it if I could make fun of someone else besides myself for a change. Go ahead, email me your best artwork, or perhaps your child's, and I'll do my damnedest to return a proper stereotype. I'm here to help.