Draw
Age 3 / 439 words
"I don't want to speak out of turn," said Susan, the nusery teacher, a rather austere looking elder woman, "but is everything okay at home?"
Robert stared at her. "Of course," he said. "Why? Has Dennis said something? He seemed okay this morning."
The both looked over to where Dennis was sat on his chair, bent over his sheet of paper, brow furrowed in concentration, scribbling furiously.
"Well, Mister Creevey..." She pursed her lips. "I think you should take a look at these. Here's what Liz drew today, and young Geoffrey." She showed him the usual kid picture, bulging bodies, flat houses, a blue strip of sky and green of ground, yellow suns.
"Very nice," said Robert, feeling it was expected.
"And this is Dennis's," she said, holding it out.
Robert took it, and lifted it up to look. Then he moved it closer. Then further away. Then he turned it around.
"We're not a very artistic family," he said, turning it around again. "I think that's supposed to be the milk van, and those are ... milk bottles. Or cows. Or possibly cows made out of milk bottles being kept in milk bottles made out of cows."
"But what about the colours," Susan asked.
"What colours?" asked Robert. "It's all black."
"Exactly!" Susan said. "It's clearly a reflection of some emotional trauma of the poor child's mind."
"Uh... huh," said Robert.
They both looked at Dennis again.
"Has he been sat there all week?" Robert asked.
"Of course," Susan said. "It's important to teach them tidiness. Everything must go in its proper place. Bottoms firmly on seats, I've told them!"
"Right," said Robert.
Dennis finished what he was doing, carefully wrote his name on the sheet (D3nni5) picked up his drawing, slid off his chair down to the floor and wandered over to main table. While he was jumping up and down, trying to get his picture on top of the others, Robert took Dennis's black cryon, put it in the cup of crayons in the middle of the table, took out a bright red one, and put it back in Dennis's place. Dennis finally managed to get his picture on the pile and came back to start another one, while Robert moved back to join Susan. They watched Dennis climb up into the chair, sit properly, pick up the red crayon and start drawing again.
"Oh," said Susan.
"Yep." They watched Dennis some more. "Although I guess not being able to reach the middle of the table without kneeling on his chair might be emotionally traumatising."
Dennis waved at them from the table, smiling.
"Or not," Robert said.
"I don't want to speak out of turn," said Susan, the nusery teacher, a rather austere looking elder woman, "but is everything okay at home?"
Robert stared at her. "Of course," he said. "Why? Has Dennis said something? He seemed okay this morning."
The both looked over to where Dennis was sat on his chair, bent over his sheet of paper, brow furrowed in concentration, scribbling furiously.
"Well, Mister Creevey..." She pursed her lips. "I think you should take a look at these. Here's what Liz drew today, and young Geoffrey." She showed him the usual kid picture, bulging bodies, flat houses, a blue strip of sky and green of ground, yellow suns.
"Very nice," said Robert, feeling it was expected.
"And this is Dennis's," she said, holding it out.
Robert took it, and lifted it up to look. Then he moved it closer. Then further away. Then he turned it around.
"We're not a very artistic family," he said, turning it around again. "I think that's supposed to be the milk van, and those are ... milk bottles. Or cows. Or possibly cows made out of milk bottles being kept in milk bottles made out of cows."
"But what about the colours," Susan asked.
"What colours?" asked Robert. "It's all black."
"Exactly!" Susan said. "It's clearly a reflection of some emotional trauma of the poor child's mind."
"Uh... huh," said Robert.
They both looked at Dennis again.
"Has he been sat there all week?" Robert asked.
"Of course," Susan said. "It's important to teach them tidiness. Everything must go in its proper place. Bottoms firmly on seats, I've told them!"
"Right," said Robert.
Dennis finished what he was doing, carefully wrote his name on the sheet (D3nni5) picked up his drawing, slid off his chair down to the floor and wandered over to main table. While he was jumping up and down, trying to get his picture on top of the others, Robert took Dennis's black cryon, put it in the cup of crayons in the middle of the table, took out a bright red one, and put it back in Dennis's place. Dennis finally managed to get his picture on the pile and came back to start another one, while Robert moved back to join Susan. They watched Dennis climb up into the chair, sit properly, pick up the red crayon and start drawing again.
"Oh," said Susan.
"Yep." They watched Dennis some more. "Although I guess not being able to reach the middle of the table without kneeling on his chair might be emotionally traumatising."
Dennis waved at them from the table, smiling.
"Or not," Robert said.