My daughter starts kindergarten in a week, so it seemed especially appropriate to accidentally unearth a few old drawings of mine from when I was her age.
Here is one my mother saved from me at age 4:
That one I drew at her work, a hair salon. She would tell me things to draw to keep me busy while she worked.
Below is a larger one on my dad’s graph paper from later the same year. I’m still 4, and I remember when I stayed with my dad on the weekends, I liked making drawings to bring home to my mom:
Finally, here is one from just after my fifth birthday that kind of boggles the mind:
I don’t mean to suggest that my drawings got darker, as I have other drawings from this time of bunnies and tree houses, etc., but I have no idea where this intense soldier came from.
And now that I have a 5-year-old of my own, it seems even more odd.
But really the point is that somehow all of these taken together seem to me to equal my adult work. Perhaps you can see what I mean.
And if not, you can humor me!