Why I Shouldn’t Draw Babies

Despite my lack of realistic artistic skill, I occasionally get requests from my friends for pictures. This was a big thing when we were in Ireland — I’d draw Susie or Libby’s friend Michelle, and then we’d take pictures of them in front of famous European landmarks. It’s kind of cheesy, but it was fun.

Right before we left on spring break Danielle asked me to draw her best friends from school, who are twins. Danielle loved the picture, but I decided I would surprise her by adding a little bonus drawing. One of the twins has a daughter (who is possibly the cutest little girl I have ever seen) that Danielle is close to, so I started to pencil her in between the twins.

I say “started” because after reaching a certain point I had to stop for fear of bring about the Plagues of Egypt.

If you can manage to tear yourself away from the hypnotizing horror that manifests itself into the cold unblinking eyeballs, you’re arrested with the crooked childish smile poised to drain the life from any unsuspecting observer, only to back away and realize that it’s not a child at all, but a freakish mutant hybrid of a chipmunk and a toad. This description becomes even more apparent when the model for the drawing is taken into account.

People always say that I am my own toughest critic, and usually I’ll admit to that. In this case, I’d like to find anyone who doesn’t find that baby terrifying.

Just try and sleep tonight.

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