The Rabbit is home with a sore tummy, and I am trying to slow down. I’m pretty shit at it, to be honest. I started the day by writing a mega list of all the things I wanted to get done, then I cleaned the bathroom, made the beds, looked at some work stuff, got dressed, let the chooks out, made morning tea, and finally, finally sat down with my boy.
“I want to draw a picture with you,” he said.
“I have this big list — wouldn’t it be fun to look at it together and work out what we’re going to do next?” I said.
“I want you to put ‘draw a picture with Rabbit’ on your list,” he said.
“Okay, I get it now,” I said.
We decided to draw a rabbit, and he had a wee freeze about being able to draw, which is such a sad thing, children suddenly being unsure of their abilities. We talked about being able to try things and rub them out, and about how I like kids to start drawings because I have ways I’m used to doing things and it’s always interesting to see how a child would draw something before they get stuck on copying an adult’s picture. He liked the rubber idea, and once I’d put the ears in, he was off, with only a few worries about how to do eyes and whether rabbits have whiskers.
I like so much about this picture. I like the fur and the heart. I like the brown tail and the detailed caption Rabbit dictated to me. I like the note to the Rabbit-on-the-picture. And I like the dedication, for which I had to close my eyes because it was a surprise. Most of all, I like the time it took, the concentration and the conversations it generated. I like the reminder about what matters.