Marshmallows are the most imaginative type of food. This is just my opinion, but stick with me and I’ll show you where I am going with this.

Every parent should feel their child is the funniest/smartest/cutest/will surely cure cancer, or at least people’s muffin-top situation. If you don’t feel this way, I worry about you.

The other day, I had that moment with my daughter.

Last year, when my daughter was in Kindergarten, each student had to keep an art/drawing journal.  They created self-portraits, pictures of the various seasons, and glued photos into the book.  It was pretty awesome to see the growth in her drawing abilities from the beginning of the year to the end.

One drawing caught my eye.

“What is this?” I asked my little person.

“That’s you having me in the hospital.” She replied.

“Oh.”

Below is the drawing.

I’d like to draw your attention to some outstanding details:

1)      Apparently my daughter felt she was a breech baby. She wasn’t, but notice the feet shooting out first.

2)      Did I sneeze and birth her? She is airborne.

3)      We couldn’t be happier. Every birth is a magical and happy moment, but we are both so relaxed. Maybe I’m on Quaaludes.

4)      Clearly my daughter finds me to be a snappy dresser. Notice my Jacklyn Smith pant-suit in the delivery room.

5)      My daughter was born in Texas, but does she feel she was born in a border town?  Notice the stark surroundings. Also, no one seems to be helping us out at El Medico.

6)      At least she got my stringy, birthing hair right. I could have used a brush that day.

Even though this drawing made me giggle a bit, it warmed my heart to the core. As parents, it’s a surreal experience to see your child’s interpretation of various events.

Many times, we adults might find a restaurant so-so, but your child thinks it’s the best because they put multicolored sprinkles on the ice cream. Or as we bustled to and from stores, never fully taking in our surroundings, our children are eyeballing the colony of rolly-pollys in-between the pavement cracks and giving them names and duties.

Kids have the amazing, un-censored gift of imagination.  I hope mine never loses her sense of wonder, or I may be forced to have her watch “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” on repeat while feeding her marshmallows (ah, it’s a marshmallow full-circle).

I am going to frame this rendering.

I’ll wedge it between her ballet recital photo and the blank space that will one day hold her Oscar, Nobel Peace Prize, and Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes.