Everyone’s A Critic

Apparently Ms. Bean was not pleased with the sketch I made of her this evening:

“It is a sad face,” she said. “Sad Evey.”

That is some harsh scribbling. I can understand being upset about my hacky drawing of Ariel; I’m pretty sure I drew better Little Mermaids when I was ten. But I thought the little study was coming along reasonably well.

She was totally pleased with herself when she took away all the pencils and wouldn’t let me have any, though. I begged her and she said, “No, you can’t. I have the box. No pessils for Mummy.”

No pencils for you!

However, I have to say, if we’re going to pick on one another’s attempts at representative art, her photographic eye is clearly not developed AT ALL. I’ve just discovered that there are literally 432 photographs on my phone, taken today, that all look more or less like this:

Call that a self-portrait? Humph.

Unless, of course, she’s just documenting the dreadful job I did cutting her bangs. In which case: well-played, the Bean. Well-played.



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