This is the first time that I’ve ever drawn a baby, I think.
My friend Chez said that she liked this one because it seemed like the Spaghetti had a life of its own. Andrew just said it was gross.
This one was inspired by dinner last night, but also a poem that I wrote called “Spaghetti“:
Spaghetti on the window sill.
Spaghetti on the chair.
Spaghetti on the ceiling fan.
Spaghetti here and there.
Spaghetti to the left and right.
Spaghetti north and south.
Spaghetti ends up everywhere
except the baby’s mouth.