Spring-cleaning at the office, I came upon this. Art work of my son, Christopher, while he was waiting for me in the office one day.
It’s dated 25 June 1993, which would make him about two and a half years old then.
How time flies … a bit cliche, but it is true, when you see things like this. I remember that day, when I settled him down with highlighters and scraps of paper to keep him occupied.
I don’t remember giving him the ink pad, though. He must have found it in one of the desk drawers. I didn’t mind him getting his hands dirty … he made the best memories from that day.
I remember him empyting out a box of rubber bands into the drawer, and picking up a ruler, proceeded to swish the rubber bands around in the drawer.
“Cooking noodles”, he looked up at me, matter of factly. I left him to finish his cooking.
He’s now 22 years old. It’s a man’s hand now that you’ll see. Still the same shape, the same structure of the fingers, just bigger.
But I’ll always see the little boy in him.