I Couldn't Stop Her, Even If I Wanted To

Evie loves to write. She will fill pages with random letter-like strokes, insert the pages into an envelope, and hand you her "letter." She uses the whiteboard, the chalkboard, the paper roll, her coloring books, or any random pile of sticky notes she can find.

She draws dozens of people every day--if it has straight hair, then it is probably me or her ("I have to use lellow for my hair 'cuz I don't have white"), and if it has curly hair, then it is definitely Ellie.

Then, like any trained artist, she signs her name.

Over and over and over she writes Evie.  Sometimes the first E has multiple arms, sometimes the last e is backwards.

When she was asked to give a talk in Primary on Sunday, she illustrated her own words--she helps others by picking Mommy flowers and helping Daddy in the rain.  She was so proud of those pictures, but her fear took over when it was time to sit in front of everyone and wait her turn to speak.  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she fought to sit back with her class.  I thought it was over.

Then, when we stood at the podium and I pulled out her drawings, she suddenly became willing to explain to everyone what she had drawn. 

So, maybe this one won't be a public speaker, but maybe I finally got an artist.