The Sculptor in Our Midst

So, on Friday, my youngest son was playing with play dough. Now, he plays with play dough frequently, but has never really made anything with it except for cut outs or the occasional worm or snake.

So, when he said, “Hey, Mom, I made a frog!”, I think I said, “Sounds good, Hon!” and went on making dinner.

(By the way, I call my sons “Hon” all the time. I got it from my Ma Beaut who was my maternal grandmother. She was from north Alabama, so when she said “hon” sounded like “Hun” — as in Attilla. “Hon” works with boys — they are equal parts sweet (honey) and warrior (hun) — so it fits, you know?)

Anyway, I was prevailed upon to COME SEE the frog. And, dude, can I tell you, it totally looked like a frog.

These boys continually surprise me.