Weekly Inspiration: Imagination

I've been having a little trouble drumming up the ol' inspiration this week. I think it's a combo of struggling to get back into the swing of things here on the home front, and the fact that this cough medicine is SERIOUSLY messing with my brain. I spent most of yesterday in some bizarro drug-induced stupor, sitting on the couch and staring at the computer screen, which simply refused to come into focus. I'm feeling a little better today, but still not exactly inspired. I contemplated several different things, from the fact that Sarah is currently in Uganda getting ready to film mongooses (and sharing her hotel room with a gecko and a giant spider - sounds fun, right?), to the holiday season (because I really do love it; peppermint bark, anyone?), to the utterly fabulous chick flick Never Been Kissed (because I was watching it on Netflix and honestly, does it ever get old?). But none of them were truly inspiring me.

Then Jack pulled lightly on my pant leg and said "Cram? Color?"

Jack contemplates his next artistic move - squiggle, or dot.

And so I said, "To hell with inspiration," and came downstairs so Jack could color with his "crams." It lasted all of five minutes, but it was the first time Jack had ever asked me if he could color.  And inside I was doing a happy dance, because I love art, and I want my child to love art.  His parent-teacher conference had me a little freaked out, to be perfectly honest ("Jack Jack needs to practice painting with brush strokes and rolling clay" sounded more like "Jack Jack is going to be drawing stick figures for the rest of his life" in my head). And so I say to all the nay-sayers out there:

How's THAT for creative genius?!

Sure, a one-pawed cat could do better, but do you see those LINES? He's not just stabbing the paper anymore, he's actually (sort of) drawing! Most of us grow up believing that we have no artistic talent whatsoever - and if you've seen John's rendition of a squirrel, you'll understand why - but I love the fact that each and every one of us starts out with the desire to create, to put cram to paper and convey whatever we imagine to the world. (Perhaps this was Jack's artistic interpretation of his mother's Robitussin-fueled trip.)  Even if Jack is genetically inclined toward his father's stunted creative potential, I plan on encouraging him every step of the way.  After all, without imagination, how would any of us ever find our inspiration?