The other day I was scanning some photos my mom let me borrow. This little guy is me, drawing at the table with my Nana behind me. I'm guessing I was probably 3 or 4. I tried to make out what I was drawing. It looks like a bunch of scribbles, but my name is fairly legible (B-O-B-B-Y). I don't remember not being able to read, and I don't remember not enjoying to draw. I guess because I did both at an early age. My Grammy (not to be confused with my Nana above), used to sit with me and have me practice drawing shapes. The most advanced thing she showed me how to draw was a pumpkin—clever of her because they were made out of the shapes she was teaching me.
I was 4 when my brother Shawn was born, and was expecting a baby sister (because I already had a brother, Matt). When I heard the news, I cried. My parents turned me around pretty quickly, though, and to welcome him into the family, I wrote Shawn's name and drew him a pumpkin. I don't have it handy; it's probably tucked away safely at my house. To this day, they appear in my doodles quite a bit.