The terrified little fishie

I commissioned Leigh to design my profile picture for my facebook profile. Have you ever seen a more terrified fish. Leigh's ability to generate emotion even in these pictures drawn by mouse on the pc never fails to amaze me.

Click on the image to enlarge it if you want see the actual size picture.

Hey, cow, what's that on your ear?

Leigh drew this picture on her dad's computer yesterday. We all wondered what the little thing on the middle cow's head was as the sent version were too small to see. It was only after we got the original that we saw...

When we asked what was up with that, Leigh said: "Nothing. He tells them where to go. That's all."

"But why?" I asked.

The answer came over her shoulder on her way back to the pc. "Because they're too big to see."

(Click on the picture for detail)

The girl who rode the foam...

Leigh announced on Thursday that she is going to be a professor one day, but that she first wants to be a surfer like her oldest sister.

She proceeded promptly to the storeroom and emerged with one of her sister's more advanced boards - one that is referred to amongst the surfers here as a "tricks board" or something. The cool graphics on it drew her to it, I think.

We spend the next hour convincing her that all surfers were body boarders first before her sister and her friends could take the prospective wave riding professor for her first session in the surf.

According to all reports she really rode the foam...

(The pictures were taken with one of the guys' cellphone)

The issue of dragons...

Leigh issued me with a handmade voucher for four dragon eggs this morning. We were just having an ordinary everyday breakfast, but I could see this was an event which carried a bigger significance than the usual breakfast table events or random handing-over of things and that some measure of solemnity accompanied by discernable signs of appreciation was required from me.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart, this is just what I always wanted: dragon eggs. When can I collect them?”

“What are you going to do with them?” The eyes were narrow slits, the expectation tangible. This was a test question.

“Oh, I’ll keep them on my dressing table to make it look pretty and to make me think of you.” I knew I had failed the test after “keep”, I could see it in her shocked eyes, but kept going like a brave trooper on a suicide mission.

“Noooooo! They’re not for keeping!”

“What does one do with dragon eggs, Leigh?” asked big sister no. 2, deciding to bail me out this time. (The big sisters and I have a system whereby we bail each other out in the event of tight Leigh spots and in the process the bailer outer earns bail out credit for when it is her turn to stand in the dock for not knowing obvious stuff.)

“You warm them.”

“And then?”

“They crack, of course.”

“Oh. So?”

“And then dragon babies will come out.”

“Why do I want dragon babies? I have you.” I ask.

“They will grow up.”

“Why do I want grown up dragons?”

She looks at me for a long long time. “Because one has to have dragons.”