I call it Al Dente: A Tale of Two Pastas, courtesy of our artist-in-residence, Matthew.
On a completely unrelated note, I really need to buy a childproof lock for the pantry.
Of course, this was preferable to Leah's nudist exhibition yesterday. She called it Here's My Soiled Diaper, Mom. I preferred to think of it as Aaaaahhhhh! Leave the Huggies on! But that's the thing about art - different people see it different ways. That is why I tried to explain to her the virtues of non-visible art, a category in which all diaper-related masterpieces should find themselves.
Not to be outdone, Michael demonstrated his aptitude for the abstract by using the hose to fill the lonely space below the trampoline. He called it Fountain of Fun. I called it Go to Your Room.
Poor, struggling artists. How will they ever find themselves when their mother does not believe in their work?