Anatomically speaking

I may have a problem.

Or maybe not.  It’s tough to say; I’ve never parented a boy before.

This morning, I was going through all of the papers my sweet and innocent little six-year-old brought home in his backpack yesterday afternoon.  You can imagine my delight when I saw this.

Cute, right?  I love the little books and projects Jayce makes at school–especially the ones that give me insight to his perspective of our family life, home, etc.  So here I am, excited to peek into his book.  At this point, I have every inkling that I’m in for a real treat.  Until I open it to the first page, that is.  At which point I see this.

At first glance, it might seem quite ordinary, what with the colorful names of each family member and all.  But take a close look at the pictures he drew and, well, let’s just say maybe I’m a tad confused on his perspective after all.

The rest of the book is more along the lines of what I would have expected.

Except for the fact that he paid so much attention to, um, perceived detail, ahem, in his stick figure drawings but he completely neglected to draw even the most rudimentary of Christmas trees.  In spite of the fact that he specifically notes we have a lot of them.

And here he is–fully clothed, mind you–excited (as he should be) about the contents of his Christmas stocking.  And yes, the rest of the family is unaccounted for on Christmas morning.  Perhaps we’re off sewing together leaves to cover ourselves.

I don’t recall any of my three daughters ever coming home with something like this.

And no, we don’t make it a habit to wander naked around the house.

I’m still scratching my head over this one.  And maybe a tad bit mortified to attend parent teacher conferences in the spring.