Just before I moved to this city four years ago, the husband-to-be and I discovered that we both had been calling our then three-year-olds "monkey." They immediately became the monkeys in everyday parlance, but the now-four-year-old then-baby was too little. Soon enough, though, she got a bit bigger and became Dangergirl Rubbertop Out to Climb the World, and the monkey nickname just begged to include her too. Thus they are the monkeys, which saves us otherwise calling them the littles (while the older kids are stuck with the uncreative "big boys").
Also thus, this drawing. They were on a spree with another I did, and watching them, I sketched this up.
Then I said, "Do you want a monkey coloring page?"
The monkeys all shouted, because shouting is just the way they talk: "Yes!" "I do!" "Me too!"
I said, "Great, 'cause I just drew one," and handed over photocopies.
The exclamations were awesome, but it was the eight-year-old girlchild who found words first and said, "Oh my goodness. These monkeys are US!"
They colored all evening long.
Also thus, this drawing. They were on a spree with another I did, and watching them, I sketched this up.
Then I said, "Do you want a monkey coloring page?"
The monkeys all shouted, because shouting is just the way they talk: "Yes!" "I do!" "Me too!"
I said, "Great, 'cause I just drew one," and handed over photocopies.
The exclamations were awesome, but it was the eight-year-old girlchild who found words first and said, "Oh my goodness. These monkeys are US!"
They colored all evening long.