The Princess and the Pizza

One of the pleasures that I am experiencing lately as a pseudo-parent, is that of having marvelous artistic treasures bestowed upon me by HRH.  Even though just about everything she does at this point resembles Nicole Ritchie (think: stick figures), it’s still a sweet gesture.  I mean, really, who doesn’t like to be presented with skillfully crafted works of art from their dear little munchkin?  And, as such, I am quickly compiling a rather large collection of these masterpieces.

Sometimes there is actually some creative thought processes put into them, and sometimes it’s just my name scrawled in marker on a blank piece of paper with a sparkly sticker stuck in the corner, which, I am taking for the record as a “Hey, numbnuts!  Forget about Judge Judy and pay some attention to me will ya!”   Whatever the case, our little Rembrandt here sometimes hands me some rather, well, interesting works of art.  So much so that I have to sit back for a second and wonder: “Hmm, what is she trying to say here exactly?”

Take this for example:


Honestly, what is going through this child’s melon?  Where I am pleased she thinks enough about me to spend the time coloring a picture for me and I’m pleased she can stay within the lines and everything, I also can’t help but wonder:  why a princess?  Upon receiving this, I developed more facial tics than a Lyme Disease Research Facility.  Seriously, I know I’m beautiful and all that but, surely, she doesn’t see me as some uber-feminine girly man does she?  Good lord.

And then there’s the whole flip side to this piece:


Umm, OCD much?

Don’t get me wrong, I love that she likes me for being silly and fun and all that, but where on God’s green earth did the pizza question come from?  And what does that have to do with princesses for that matter?  Was the sole underlying purpose of this whole art project really just to determine my personal preference for pizza?  Really?  Who doesn’t love pizza? I have so many questions rippling through my mind now that my brain is literally imploding in on itself.

God help me.

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1 Comment

  1. Jeannette

     /  June 20, 2012

    Love your words Terry. Fun read!


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